The Blossoms
by MissLoonyLovegood
Summary: It's the mid-1800's and the world is dividing quickly, North and South. Black and White. Love, friendship, kinship is all pushed aside for a war that will undoubtedly reach out to everyone. Friendship and love will be tested to its limits. AH/AU R&R canon
1. Prologue

The Blossoms

Author's Note: This story, I feel, will probably end up being my gem. I will be taking my time with it, so expect only weekly updates at best. It's requiring a lot of research on my part to make it make sense at all. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I'm sure I will enjoy writing it. I'm going to start off by dedicating this story to -SuckerForJazz-, who is faithfully reading my stories. Much thanks to you!

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Prologue

Beaumont Texas, 1856

The sun began to raise far too quickly in the east, casting a blinding light over the large house that stood erect, surrounded by trees. In the distance stood several small cabins that were already empty of their inhabitants. The clanking of metal was loud, but you could sleep through the sound if you truly wanted to. It was the sun that wafted through the open windows that roused the family from their sleep.

It was mid-summer, and an unseasonably hot one at that. Most families had taken to leaving their windows open all night so that it might cool off the house and give them a refuge from the heat. Unfortunately, it did not help much and instead urged them to be awake earlier and begin their daily lives. Any adventure or thought of escaping to play was squashed when the maid-- a black woman with crazy hair, named Zafrina-- entered into the room that belonged to her Master's son.

Zafrina had been with the family since she was an infant and had been trained since the day she could walk to clean and cook. She had advanced up the ranks over the years and when Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock finally had the twins, she had been designated the maid and caregiver to the children while the Master and his wife went on one of their many business trips. She didn't mind, though, and truly enjoyed her time with the children longing to have her own. As the years began to fly past she finally accepted that she would not be able to have her own children, and threw her heart and soul into raising the children as if they were her own.

Not that they would ever know that. Rosalie was exceptionally headstrong and liked to pretend she owned the house and everyone inside of it. Zafrina secretly believed that when the Master died little Rosalie would probably take over the Plantation since her younger brother by two minutes was simply too sweet and good-hearted to ever lift a hand against the slaves. Whenever she thought of the boy her heart would swell with the warmth of love. Perhaps she couldn't birth her own child, but if there ever were a child that was meant for her soul it would be little Jasper.

The woman strode to the end of the bed, tugging the thin sheet off the boy's frame and stared down at his underwear-clothed body with a tsk. The boy curledu p in a tighter ball, his golden hair shoulder-length and curled and sticking out in every which direction possible. With an affectionate sigh, the woman tugged on his leg to pull him from the fetal position he had curled up in. "Now, now, boy. You know better than to sleep in late. Your Pa will have a right fit. Come along, now, it's breakfast time and y'know how that sister of yours can pile her food on her plate."

The boy didn't respond, growling quietly in his slumber as he grabbed the pillow he was laying his head on and flung it over the back of his head. He certainly was a hand-full, but she loved him all the more for it. Zafrina laughed and crossed her arms, slowly walking to the head of the bed and wrenching the pillow from the boy's head. Sleepy blue eyes lifted to her face and the cutest pout crossed his full lips even though he knew it would have no effect on her. The woman was as stubborn as any woman could ever be. But he wasn't going to make things easy for her. It was his way of showing affection, and she knew it. That's why, not a moment later, Zafrina fell onto the bed beside the boy and began to tickle him mercilessly. The boyish giggles erupted from his throat as he writhed on the bed, trying to stop her hands from their playful movement. She laughed and ruffled his hair as he sat up with wide eyes, his scrawny frame trembling as he tried to recapture his breath.

"Ahem." The two turned to face the doorway where Mr. Whitlock stood, a frown on his face. Instantly, Zafrina was on her feet and across the room, her hands folded into the skirt of her dress with an apologetic look on her face. Mr. Whitlock didn't even spare her a second glance as he entered his son's room and sat on the bed beside him. He was a large man with a wide-frame. His hair had once been blonde, though now it was turning slowly to grey and he had a long, full beard also flickered with grey. His eyes were a steel grey, but they held a gentleness of affection for his son. In Texas, as in most places, boys were prized almost more than girls. Though he was extremely proud to have fathered such a beautiful daughter as his precious Rosalie.

"Papa, I'm sorry I slept late." The child's voice was still high-pitched, though it was beginning to change as puberty began to settle in for him. His father still wore his stern face even though his eyes had softened at the corner, the wrinkles at the corner of them becoming slightly more pronounced. Jasper inched closer to his father and gave him a one-armed hug then stood and darted to the closet to search through them until he found a pair of tan slacks and a loose-collared white cotton shirt. He quickly changed into them and put on his suspenders with little difficulty.

"Grab your jacket, Jasper." His father's voice broke through as he tried to comb his fingers through his wild blonde tresses. "We have an important errand to run today, and you have to look sharp." The child's eyes lit up as he took in the information, running back to his father's side.

"Just the two of us?" The excitement was palpable as the boy trembled in his eagerness. Too often Mr. Whitlock had made journeys and left his son behind to fend for himself. It was time he started to learn the trick so fthe trade so that he may one day take over the plantation and help it to prosper. Since the boy was slowly becoming a man, it was better to go ahead and start getting him acquainted with the adult world that he would soon be involved in.

"Just the two of us. A new family has moved in on the old Massey plantation, and it's good ol' Southern hospitality to go and greet your new neighbors and see if they need any help settling in." Jasper pulled his nice black shoes from under his bed and slid them on his feet, hurriedly lacing the shoes. "Now run along down the stairs and get your breakfast. We will be leaving soon." Beaming, Jasper ran out the door and down the stairs. The sound of something crashing to the ground announced that he had made it down the stairs and tripped over the jacket-holder, just as he normally did. Mr. Whitlock allowed a small chuckle of amusement at his son's antics while he made his way to the door. Then he turned to face the slave that still stood in his son's room, watching his every movement with fear written all over her face. "Zafrina." His voice came out cool and hard once more, all traces of gentleness gone from his face.

"Yes, Master?" She said in her soft voice, taking a step forward as she knew he would want her to. Her fingers trailed over the lapels of the blue dress she wore, fingering the freying string. She would have to repair it that night, since she only had three dresses to her name...

"If I ever catch you touching my son again you will be in the cotton fields faster than you can beg me not to. Am I understood?" He watched with distinct pleasure as the woman shuddered, bowing her head so her hair would fall in her face. It was not missed by the older man, but he would not reprimand her for her fear. He didn't strive to be a heartless person, but he had to keep his help in their positions. He had heard too many stories of slaves getting out of control, murdering their owners in their sleep or poisoning their water. He would not take those chances.

"Yes, Master." Her voice was still weak with her humbleness, and he gave her a single nod then left the room to join his family at the breakfast table. Zafrina set about making Jasper's bed once again, tucking the blankets and sheets back into place, fluffing the pillow before she put it at the head of the bed. She carried the lantern down the stairs to fill it with oil once again so her boy could study in his room at night as he usually did. Reading was a favorite pass-time of his and she would often sneak into his room so he could read aloud to her. He had a rare gift for painting pictures in people's minds as a story evolved.

She hoped she could get a story tonight.

~*~*~

Jasper sat up front in the horse-drawn omnibus, practically bouncing in his seat. At his side, his father was chuckling heartily at the boy's eagerness while he steered the horse onward. It was still sunny outside, the temperature beginning to soar as the afternoon began to settle in. They had been riding for a very long time, much longer than Jasper remembered ever riding in his entire twelve years of life. The trees were beginning to grow thinner as they got closer to the house, and he felt a brief wave of sadness when he looked on at the house.

It was a two-story house made from red brick with a black roof. To the right of the house stood a stable and a fenced-in pasture for the grazing mares, stallions and foals that were scattered about. Aside from that, there appeared to be no cotton fields, no fields at all in fact. The blonde boy's gaze darted about the house, searching for the tell-tale slave cottages that would mark these people his equals, his familiars. But there was nothing there, no sign of slaves at all. He turned a questioning gaze to his father and Mr. Whitlock chuckled softly. "Jasper, not everyone owns slaves or plantations."

"We do." He said, looking confused. His father guided the horse to a tie-post and slide from his seat to tie the horse out. From the corner of his eyes he saw his son hop down from the seat and walk around the clearing to take in the unfamiliar landscape.

"Come along, son." Mr. Whitlock strode forward to his son's side and looked down at him. Together they walked to the doorstep and knocked on the door, awaiting the sound of someone coming to greet them. It only took a moment and the door flew open to frame the tiny figure of a little girl. Her hair was short and black, obviously windblown. Her cheeks were flushed from her excursion and her full lips were a light shade of pink, pouted as she studied the two males before her. But it was her eyes that captivated both of the Whitlocks, so dark blue they were almost black, a ring of gold around the pupils. "Hello, little miss."

"Mother and Father are busy. Go 'way." Her voice was sweet, like bells ringing through the air-- quite a contrast to what her words said.

"Mary Alice! I told you to let me get to the door! Oh, goodness, I am so sorry." Suddenly a short, slender woman came into view, pushing her tiny daughter back behind her, though the little girl still managed to peer around her mother's skirts to watch the entertainment. The sound of a man's footsteps trailed behind and suddenly the girl was hefted up into a giant man's arms. He set her on his shoulder and beamed at the Whitlocks with a winning grin.

"Sorry about our Mary Alice. She has a mind of her own." He offered his right hand to Mr. Whitlock, bracing his daughter with his left. Immediately, Mr. Whitlock took his hand and gave it a firm shake. "My name is John, this is my wife Abigail, our daughter Mary Alice. Our other daughter, Cynthia, and our son Emmett are out back drawing some water from the well." Mr. Whitlock nodded his head, acknowledging their names as he motioned to his own son.

"This is my son, Jasper. My name is Julian, my wife's name is Eva. We have a daughter named Rosalie, as well. They are twins." Abigail's eyes widened at Mr. Hillock's words, her eyes traveling over Jasper's face.

"That's most unfortunate. It was painful having them one at a time, I couldn't imagine multiple-births." Jasper puffed out his chest proudly. He'd heard this conversation from his father's end before. His family was of good stock-- a strong, able father and an equally strong mother. He would have the world by the horns once he was a grown man, and he would make people so envious of him that they would do anything just to be in his favor. It's how it was meant to be, and how it would be no matter what.

The tiny girl perched on her father's shoulder laughed then, pointing directly at Jasper's shocked face. "You stuck your chest out like you was a silly little chicken! If you are a twin does that make you a freak?" She tilted her head to the side as the colour began to rise in Jasper's cheeks, turning them a brilliant shade of red. No one really knew what to say to the child. Except, perhaps, Jasper.

"I am _not_ a freak! _You_ are a freak!" Mr. Whitlock looked at his son sharply, reprimanding, quite plainly telling his son that they would be having a nice chat on the way back home. Imagine all their surprise when John burst out laughing, setting his pixie of a daughter on the ground so he could double over in laughter.

"I think our kids will get along just fine. Mary Alice, how about you take your new friend outside and play so we grown-ups can have a nice little chat?" He ushered the raven-haired girl forth and she continued on without glancing back. She passed between Mr. Whitlock and Jasper, grabbing the boy's hand as she passed and dragging him along after her. The boy shot his father a panicked look, but all his father could do was cast him a quick glance and a loud, bellowing laugh. Wonderful. He was stuck with the girl for who knows how long.

They walked on down the lane a ways before she dropped his hand and smoothed out the baby-blue skirt she wore. They walked on in silence a ways, him with his arms crossed and glaring at her, and she about five paces ahead of him looking up at the tops of the trees. Finally, she stopped advancing and turned to a tree on her left, running her fingers over the bark. Before he could question her actions she had dug the side of her foot into a section of the tree and began climbing it with a determined expression on her face.

"What are you _doing_?" Jasper demanded her, glaring up the tree at her. She seemed uninterested in what he was saying as she climbed onto a high limb, casting her glance about from her new perch. He felt his heart pound wildly in his chest at the sight of the little girl in a tree. "You are going to fall! Get down now!"

"You're such a big _baby_!" Alice called to him, kicking her feet a little. The sun filtered through the tree and illuminated her pale skin. "I'm perfectly fine. I climb trees all the time. Y'know, since you're a boy _you_ should prolly be the one climbin' the trees!" She heard his scoff and allowed the faintest grin to cross her features a moment before she twisted on the limb, locking her knees around the branch and dangling upside down. His panicked cry made her giggle.

"If you get hurt it is your own fault! You could break your neck!" The girl bit her lower lip and watched him a moment before she allowed her knees to give way. She started to fall towards the ground at an alarming rate, but she didn't scream or cry or wet herself. Instead, she allowed her eyes to just close, enjoying the air flying through her shorn locks. As she crashed into the ground, she first landed on the boy and they fell to the ground with a loud crash and an "Oof!" She quickly slid off of him and helped him roll into a sitting position.

"You didn't have to catch me. I was going to fly away." She said, tilting her head to the side. "Like a baby bird. They fall out of the nest and they fly, fly away." She had an enchanting, wistful smile on her face and all Jasper wanted to do was smack her for it.

"You're a stupid, silly girl! You ain't a bird! You can't fly! Wait 'till your Mama and Papa hear about you doing this, Mary Alice. You'll be in so much trouble!" Suddenly her eyes narrowed and he found himself shoved to the ground with the little girl's finger burying in his chest.

"Don't you _ever_ call me Mary Alice, got it? 's just Alice. I don't like _Mary_. And go ahead and tell my _mother_ and _father_, they won't do nothin'. They never do." They sat there, glaring at each other a long time then suddenly they both burst out giggling and collapsed together in a heap. They stayed that way a while and smiled happily until they turned and laid on their backs on the dirt ground, staring up into the sky at the clouds that passed overhead. "Why didjya come here?" Her voice was much sweeter now and Jasper found himself grinning.

"Papa wanted to meet the new neighbors. I imagine he'll be comin' 'round for me soon." He saw her nod her head from the corner of his eye. "Why d'ya have such short hair? Ladies ain't s'posed to have short hair. That's what my Mama says whenever Rosie tries to cut her hair off." The other girl laughed and ran her tiny fingers through her short black hair.

"Mama tried to tell _me_ that too. But I cut it off anyway. I don't wanna be just like everyone else, I'm _my own_ lady." Yawning, the tiny girl climbed to her feet and offered her hand up for him, to help him to his feet. He took it without hesitation. "I ain't never had any friends sides from my own sister and brother 'fore. Can we be friends, Jasper? Maybe your sister, too?"

"Prolly not Rosie." They walked together back to the house in time to see his father untying their horse from the post and bringing it around to wait for his son to climb it. The younger girl looked sad that her time with him was cut so short. "We can be friends though. How old are ya anyways?" He asked, turning his face to gaze at her. She beamed.

"I'm nine years and three months old!" She told him proudly, shaking her head. They watched a leaf fall from her hair and both of them burst out laughing all over again. Jasper grinned at her as his father hopped on in the omnibus, quickly realizing that his son was going to take his time reaching him. "How boutchyou?" She flashed him a glint of her bright white teeth and he squeezed her hand slightly.

"Twelve. And... I dunno how many months." Again, they shared a laugh. He guided her past his dad and led her up to the porch. He paused long enough to pick up a little red flower just off the porch and handed it to the girl with a grin when they faced one another. "So... bye, I guess."

"Bye." She grinned as he handed her the little flower. Then, as he had seen his father do this with any woman he'd ever met, Jasper lifted Alice's left hand and pressed the lightest kiss to the back of it and darted back towards his father. He climbed in with a little difficulty, his father laughing heartily beside him, and waved at Alice until she left his sight.

End Prologue.


	2. Chapter One: The Realization

The Blossoms

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or the characters or the Civil War or anything else that is being used in this story. I'm sorry I forgot this in my first chapter.

Author's Note: Thank you for reviewing, guys, I really appreciate the gesture. This story is slowly taking over my brain, and you won't believe how difficult it is to find accurate information of US life during this time-frame except for the battles. It's a shame. It will make this a little more difficult to write, but I will do my best. Someone did ask a very good question, and I'm sure you will notice even if you do not read this Author's Note, but this story will have a couple time jumps, simply because I am rather unwilling to write the daily lives of our favorite characters for five years of their lives before the fun stuff starts to happen. I will jump ahead a little bit, since this story will be mostly based when Jasper is 16 and upwards.

Also, there are parts to this story that I'm not going to be altogether comfortable with. Since during the timeframe of this story is when there were slaves, I will eventually have to use words that I simply don't like, because that's the only way to keep everyone in character. Jasper grew up in an entirely different world, which is what drew me to this story in the first place. If you are uncomfortable with this kind of thing, please don't read on. I don't want to offend any readers.

Onto the story...

~*~*~*~

Beaumont Texas, 1859

It was still mostly dark outside, and the rain was mercifully falling in waves across the recently parched land. The occasional crash of thunder was heard outside while the boy and his father sat at their dining table eating their quick breakfast of eggs before a long day out and about, making certain that the slaves were doing their work well and to check one the crops. It was almost harvest time, and the workload had been increased to an almost intolerable level.

Zafrina stood in the corner of the room, leaning back against the wall just waiting for her boy and the Master to finish with their plates so she could set about the task of washing them and getting Miss Rosalie up. Mrs. Whitlock and Rosalie were due to a tea party that evening, since the young woman was fifteen years old now it was certainly time that they started letting the possible suitors come around. It was most unbecoming for a woman to be older than eighteen when she was wed. Only the most undesirable ever waited that long and Miss Rosalie was certainly not undesirable.

Rosalie was the Whitlock's little gem, and they were going to use her to effectively gain a new member of their family, someone what would provide a sufficient sum of money and position to them and their daughter. There were many males in these parts that were capable of doing this, and Rosalie had long ago accepted her duty to her family. She no longer had any problems with this arrangement, knowing that the man chosen to become her husband would be well-off and would care for her in all ways that a husband should care for his wife.

Jasper was another thing entirely. He had grown over the years and stood at an impressive 6 feet tall, his curly golden locks now fell to his shoulder. He had grown into a serious, intense boy that followed his father's commands to the "t". The young man took a final gulp of his milk and rose to his feet, tucking the chair back into place and he started towards the door. A moment later he was followed by his father. They donned their wide-brimmed hats and together they made their ways to the cotton fields. The slaves were already bustling about their work before their Masters even came down to supervise them. Mr. Whitlock cast Mr. Brandon a grin and the two shook hands in greeting. Jasper bowed his head in greeting to their foreman, politely inquiring about the welfare of his family.

Mr. Whitlock and Mr. Brandon shared a knowing smile before the latter began to talk about his pregnant wife's cravings for chocolates the evening before, and how she was quite put-out when he informed her that they didn't have any in the house. He told Jasper about Emmett's attempts at courting a silly frivolous girl that lived three miles from their home, but she was so flighty that Emmett had called it quits when the girl had the gall to ask him when she would be getting her engagement ring. He purposefully skipped over the daughter that Jasper wanted to actually know about, and spoke of seven year old Cynthia, and how she had cut off all of her hair because she wanted to be different just like her older sister had before.

As Jasper stared at Mr. Brandon expectantly, the two older men burst out laughing. It was their daily custom, so Jasper really didn't take it to heart. He knew that both men desperately wanted Jasper to officially ask Mr. Brandon's permission to court his daughter, but he had proved to be a most unwilling participant. It wasn't that he didn't like Alice, because he truly _did_, but he cared for her as much as he cared for Emmett's well-being. She was his best friend, though no one believed a man and a woman could ever simply be best friends. At the age of twelve, Alice was blossoming into a beautiful young woman with a wild personality who stood up for all she believed in. It had caused more than one argument between the friends, but he admired her all the more for her determination.

And to be honest, the reason that Mr. Brandon wanted Jasper to ask to court his young daughter was that he was so worried his daughter would have no suitors as she got older. In this place and this time women were preferred to bend to their husband's will and stick with her wifely duties. And that was so _not_ Alice. Jasper pitied the man who would eventually claim her as his wife. If he thought he could change the girl, then that man would be sorely mistaken.

The three split up and went down the ranks of the slaves, calling attention to the slaves that were falling behind on their work. The blonde boy would usually just warn the slaves in quiet tones that they had best pick up the pace, and they typically would. They preferred Jasper over the other two because of his kind disposition and sympathy. He never hit them, and when they would continue to act out of turn he would get his father or Mr. Brandon and they would deal out the punishment.

This weakness with the slaves was a constant thorn in Mr. Whitlock's side, and he often lectured his son about the slaves and how when he takes over the plantation, they are all likely to run away and Jasper probably wouldn't even raise his hand to stop them. He tried to deny it, though they both knew to a degree he was right. It was just not in Jasper to try to inflict pain on others. He couldn't understand the joy some of the slaveholders gained from beating their slaves to a pulp. What good did it do anyone?

As Jasper regrouped with the two older men, he heard their talk of slave breeding and slave trading, and all he could do was grimace. The whole business bothered him. He tried to see it objectively, they were just like horses or cattle, you pick the two most compatible ones and breed them. The child would be of good stock and would sell for a high price. It was a good business, his father had told him before. And Jasper knew about family stocks, his father ranted on and on about how fortunate Jasper and Rosalie were that they came from two such well-bred families as they did. So, if ever there was a man capable of breeding slaves it would be his father.

Jasper could just imagine the expression on Alice's face if she had heard this talk. Against his will, he found himself smirking ever so slightly as he pictures the red rising in her delicate little cheeks in her fury. And Alice's anger was a trifle to be messed with, she would explode like a volcano and would tear down anyone and anything in her path. One of the things she was most passionate about what her view on slavery, and she didn't bite her tongue for anyone. Jasper had heard the horror stories all too many times of wealthy friends and business associates coming to visit Mr. Brandon and his family. It always started out the same way, the family was pleasant and sweet and charming. Then they would eventually start to talk about silly mundane things like weather and politics, then the guest would ask him how life was on the Whitlock Plantation, and he would try to steer the conversation away from the topic.

But Alice would hear and would never be able to rein herself in. Three separate friends actually felt that they had to leave to escape from the tiny girl's fury when they spoke of the slaves as property, things to be handled and dealt with with the same care you would give to a mule or a horse. Jasper never really understood the reasoning behind her views-- it was simply their way of life. You either go with the tides or you get pulled under the water. And Jasper was a Whitlock, they _didn't_ drown in circumstances where they were meant to lead. That was one of the main reasons he _could_ not ever court his dearest friend, even if he _had_ been interested in her in that way. Alice did not quite go with the tides, but she certainly didn't drown, either. It was more like she was on a rowboat, working tirelessly at getting to her eventual goal. Whether she was making any headway was yet to be determined.

The sound of his father's chuckling drew Jasper's attention back to the present, focusing once more on his father and their foreman. They were apparently making plans for an elaborate dinner at Jasper's home that evening, and were making a social event of it. He supposed that was one way of trying to force their hands. They weren't quite privy to the information that Jasper was, and he was actually looking forward to that evening. Once his sister got wind that Emmett was coming for dinner she would put all her effort into being as beautiful as she could-- and even Jasper had to admit his sister could be extremely beautiful. The flirtatious smiles and batting lashes never failed to raise a blush in Emmett's cheeks, and it gave the blonde boy teasing ammunition for weeks afterwards.

Around midday the rainclouds began to roll away and the sun filtered through once more in strong heatwaves. The three continued making their rounds until it was time for the midday meal, then the two older men made their way to their respective homes to eat and inform their families that they would be sharing a dinner that evening. Since the first time Jasper had taken on the role of overseer while the elders were gone for meals things had relaxed every time it was apparent they would be gone for a while. They were permitted half an hour to eat their meals and they would go right back to work when instructed to do so. They were well-trained and Jasper felt fortunate that he hadn't yet had to deal with any rebellious slaves.

One of their new arrivals had proven to be a little bit of a problem. When his father had purchased him the previous owner had labeled him as a frequent runaway, he had been branded as such many-a-time, with scars all over his dark skin. The previous owners had bought him as a child and called him '_Laurent'_ as a favored pets' name since they had come from a French heritage. And he had been the prized slave in the household for many a year, but he started to act out and it was finally decided that he would have to go. He'd been extremely cheap when Mr. Whitlock bought him, and they had set about to keep a special eye on him above the others, though he seemed much more content in this lifestyle than in the previous one. Already he had befriended Kachiri, Jasper's own maid's sister.

As the time grew closer to when his father would return, Jasper set about getting the slaves back to work. It didn't take much effort, they were used to this and worked diligently. His father was quite pleased when he returned to find everything in order, so he relieved his son of his duty to allow him his afternoon meal, telling him to 'prepare for the evenings festivities'. It was code for 'you should look nice for the Brandons. Oh. Also, ask to court the daughter.' It was almost laughable.

~*~*~*~

Evening was drawing in fast, the smell of roasted chicken and potatoes filled the air. Jasper felt his stomach clench unpleasantly and he felt that perhaps he shouldn't have skipped the previous meal. The boy stood awkwardly in front of the mirror placed on the wall of his bedroom, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. He wore his nicest suit, as his Mama had instructed him to, and he was currently trying to twist the tie into its proper position to no avail. Suddenly, another figure joined his in the mirror over his shoulder, and he turned gratefully to face Zafrina so she could help him fix it. It wasn't as if he'd never worn a tie before, but this one was being unbelievably stubborn.

After it was accurately fixed, he felt her calloused hand pat his cheek adoringly. He allowed a slight smile and placed a kiss on the top of her head, first checking that there was no one else around. Theirs was a forbidden affection, not _love_, but still a strong, almost motherly bond. Zafrina ruffled his hair and left the room, making her way down the hallway and gently knocking on Miss Rosalie's door. The soprano voice rose in welcoming, so Zafrina entered the room to find her darling girl standing in her open closet and rummaging through the many beautiful gowns in naught but her bloomers and chemise. The woman crossed the room to gather the material that made up Rosalie's corset, folding it in her arms until Rosalie finally left the closet with a beautiful violet and lavender gown draped over her arm. She laid the dress out over the back of a chair and crossed to stand before her maid and held her arms out away from her body, drawing in a deep breath.

It took a few minutes for Zafrina to get the corset laced up Rosalie's slender frame, then another much longer span of time to help Rosalie to step into the dress. She had forgone the hoop skirt, preferring the more subtle feeling of the cloth brushing against herself. Finally, she sank down into the chair and pulled her long blonde hair from the braid she'd worn it in and handed Zafrina her brush. At the first touch of the brush to her hair, Rosalie's eyes drifted shut and she leaned backward with a content sigh. "Royce asked to see me again, Zafrina." She admitted, feeling her hair be tugged back into a messy bun, wisps of her beautiful hair falling to frame her face.

"Does Miss Rosalie want Mr. Royce to come 'round again?" Zafrina had always been interested in the lives of her 'children', and she had wondered if Rosalie had truly liked the boy that had come calling today. He'd been around the plantation a few times with his family, or they had gone to see his family. The Kings were well-known, old money folks and they acted like the world was theirs for the taking. It was much like Mr. Whitlock's view of his own family, of _himself_, and she could understand the urge they must certainly feel to pawn their gorgeous child off on the Kings. It would help strengthen the ties between the families and the 'good stock' would continue on another generation.

They never really considered what the poor girl would want. And it was painfully obvious to Zafrina what it was Rosalie wanted. Or who, rather.

"If Mama and Papa want him to come around more often, then who am I to say no?" She smiled at her image in the mirror, foregoing any make-up since she had that natural beauty everyone was so envious of. "Royce will get me many lovely things, don't you think?"

"Missy is certainly right about that." The dark woman pulled a silver chain with an amethyst stone from the jewelry box on the vanity table. She stepped back behind her girl and clasped the necklace around her throat, admiring the stone against the girl's ivory skin. The gown had a nice swooping neckline that only allowed a little glimpse of her collarbone, but it would be plenty enough to get that Emmett boy all riled up. Which was, of course, the plan.

"Rosalie Lillian Whitlock! Come down please. They will be here any moment and we must greet them properly!" Her mother's voice called up the stairs, and Rosalie could hear her bustling around downstairs. It was a lesson her mother had been trying to teach her for a while, punctuality and manners. And Rosalie was doing her best to obey her mother's orders and learn to become a proper wife, but she still had some troubles with punctuality. Drawing in a deep breath, Rosalie rose gracefully to her feet and crossed the room to step into a pair of violet leather boots. She turned to face her made once more, smoothing out the long skirts around her long legs.

"Well, Zafrina. What do you think?"

"You're truly a lovely sight, Miss." It was the answer the young woman was looking for, so she graced her maid with an enchanting smile and rushed from the room. The clipping of her shoes going down the staircase let her mother know that she was on her way, and soon the two stood side-by-side beside the door. Zafrina heard her mother's sharp tone as she followed Miss Rosalie down the stairs. Her mother was frowning at her in distaste, curling her finger around one of the locks of hair that had fallen loose of the bun. Her hand dropped to brush against her daughter's amethyst stone and she shook her head.

"You put entirely too much effort into an evening meal with family friends, and not enough in your meetings with potential suitors. Your father may not know what you are up to, but I certainly do, Rosalie. You must get that boy out of your head, he will not-- I repeat, will _not_ be getting your hand in marriage. You are far too good for him or that family. The Kings are an exceptionally well-off family and they would treat you like a Queen. Do you understand me? This is the last time you will put more effort into looking beautiful for Emmett and not for Royce. You will be polite and cordial, and that is all."

"Yes, Mama." Rosalie's voice broke and she bowed her head in her shame. Mrs. Whitlock had always been the backbone of the family, and she was extremely harsh to her daughter and son when she felt she had to be. She even opposed her son's friendship and eventual courtship with the Brandon girl simply because they were of a lower class than the Whitlocks. They worked on _her_ family's plantation, so what made the Brandons ever think their children would be good enough for hers? Perhaps it was wishful thinking.

Or perhaps they simply wanted what was best for their children. And their children had always had the options to go for whatever it is they wanted. Mrs. Whitlock just never understood how those two could allow their daughters to have such outrageous personalities, such wild imaginations. They weren't even that beautiful, she thought to herself. They were certainly no Rosalie in any case. Alice was decent enough, though entirely too small and too dark-haired for her to ever approve of. She'd always pictured her son with a beautiful tall, blonde girl, just as his father had. And the girl was the exact _opposite_ of that. She was entirely too unkept and rebellious-- secretly Mrs. Whitlock wondered if the Brandons ever really expected their eldest daughter to ever be married off and have children. Perhaps they allowed her that freedom only so she would remain with them for the rest of her natural life, and help care for them and their children.

A knock sounded at the door a moment later, and Mrs. Whitlock pushed her daughter forward to open the door in greeting. Rosalie did so and curtsied, bowing her head ever so slightly to the side before she bade entrance to their home. The customary pleasantries sounded throughout the room and Zafrina took Mrs. Brandon's hat and Alice and Cynthia's jackets and carried them to the coatrack to hang them up.

Jasper strode down the stairs at that moment, running a hand through his messy waves. He spied Emmett grinning at him cockily from the foot of the steps and they shared a laugh as he turned his gaze quickly to Rosalie and then back to Jasper, wiggling his eyebrows. The boys went to greet each other with a strong shake of the hand before Emmett slung his arm loosely around Jasper's shoulder in a one-armed hug. Little Cynthia came up to Jasper next, her auburn curls cut short in a boyish bob, made feminine only by the tiny pink bow placed on the top of her head, it matched her pink gown beautifully. The blonde boy made certain to tell her how much he liked her new hair and her dress, even after he saw the sharp look his mother gave him.

Mrs. Brandon closed the distance and pulled the boy into a motherly hug, sighing happily. It had been far too long since the last time he had been by to see her or her children. His arm slipped loosely around her waist and they shared a laugh as the baby growing in her belly decided to kick Jasper. He pulled away and rested his hand against her stomach to feel the baby again-- it was something he was unfamiliar with, new life growing in a person's body. New life he would get to see and participate in the child's life and watch it grow up. It was kind of magical, in a way. His mother and father had decided long ago not to try for another child since they had already had their heir, and a daughter to carry on their lineage.

Alice pushed her way between Emmett and her mother and crossed her arms over her chest, her black hair had grown down past her shoulders and she was able to wear it up in a waterfall hairstyle that kept half of it pinned up with ornate clips, and half of it trailing down over her shoulders. She wore faint make-up that enhanced her eyes, making them even darker and her lips were painted a gentle pink. She wore a silver dress that dipped too low for Mrs. Whitlock's taste, and a silver choker-chain with a locket dangling in the hollow of her throat.

Jasper had never seen her dressed like that before. He was stunned by his own reaction to the girl he had been best friends with for years, his mouth went dry and all he could allow himself to do is reach his hand out for hers. A black brow rose in questioning but she stretched her right hand out and blinked a couple of times when he pressed a light kiss to the back of her hand. They shared a shy smile and she stepped back to take hold of her sister's hand. Everyone was amused to find Cynthia glaring at Alice with a pout on her lips, though only the two mothers could read that expression as only mothers do.

Soon they were joined by Mr. Brandon and Mr. Whitlock who had taken the time to change before heading back to get dinner. They gathered at the large wooden table and soon several slaves came in, carrying trays full of food and spreading them throughout the table. It was difficult to keep Emmett in line long enough to say their mealtime prayer, and as soon as 'amen' was said, he had scooped a large pile of food onto his plate and was already chowing down while everyone else was still putting food on their plates. The meal was going very well, even though Rosalie managed to pile almost as much food on her plate as Emmett (which earned her a sharp stare from her mother), and by the time dessert was brought in everyone at the table was in a boisterous mood. Alice tried, futilely as usual, to engage Rosalie in a conversation, but found herself shot down once again. She had once told Rosalie that _someday_ she would have to indulge her in conversation, whether she liked it or not. Of course, that didn't really help with the blonde girl's liking of the other girl and furthermore pushed her into _not_ talking to her. But Alice always got her way, one way or another.

When the food was all finished off, the slaves cleared the tables and the men went to the study for their routine smoke, their wives heading towards the living room for all the local gossip. Mrs. Whitlock beckoned her daughter to follow her in for the conversation: she was practically a woman and would be married off within the next couple years so she should get used to the rambling chitchat of being a housewife. Seeing that he wouldn't get his usual flirt-with-Rosalie session, Emmett decided to take his leave and join the men in a smoke break. After all, Emmett was seventeen and was practically considered a man. He had spoken with Jasper once about the northerners and their plans for freeing the slaves and taking the entire lifestyle of the south down in the process. There were rumors of war breaking out all over the place, and the eager young man informed Jasper that should that war ever break out he would be on the front lines to defend his home-state and family. His father was pleased with the declaration and had treated him as if he was already _in_ a war and had come home a hero.

"Jasper, let's go for a walk." He had been standing in the entrance to the foyer, and hadn't really been paying attention to anything in particular, so when Alice's sweet little voice came from just behind him he had to keep himself from jumping. She had seen the tension in his shoulders, however, and she grinned at him with her eyes sparkling with mischief. It was a look she had often had over the three years he had known her, so he didn't understand what made _this_ look so different from the others. It was probably just the way the adults had all been speaking with him about Alice lately. Maybe it was making him see her in a light he hadn't before.

Regardless of the reasoning, Jasper found himself pushing the door open and dropping his hand down to the girl's elbow and guiding her through the doorway. Once outside, he dropped his hand back down to his side and they walked down the dirt lane in companionable silence, going to the family garden his mother had insisted be created when he and Rosalie were only toddlers. It was summertime, and all the flowers were in full bloom, the moon was full and cast an ethereal glow over the various flowers. Whenever Alice came to his house, which wasn't often, she would insist on visiting the garden. That was why he went there automatically with her when she suggested a walk-- there was nowhere else Alice would intend on going.

The silence was thick, but not uncomfortable. Occasionally he would see her lips curl up into a gentle smirk before she would be able to realize he was looking at her and instantly the expression would soften into a mask of nonchalance. It was all very maddening, mostly because these were tricks he'd seen Rosalie play with her various suitors. Shy smiles, flirtatious eyes fluttering shut, coy glances from the corner of eyes. Damningly enticing lips curling up in whatever smile they could manage at the moment. As her hand lightly brushed against his, he mentally added 'accidental' caresses. He didn't like that he was thinking of her in that manner. She was so unlike Rosalie that, even now, he wondered if this was all a game to her.

As they entered the garden Alice broke away from Jasper's side to stroll a little ahead of him. She sank down on the white bench, silver in the moonlight, and stared up at the stars in the sky overhead. The moon gave her a slight glow, and Jasper found his mouth going dry once again. What was wrong with him? This was _Alice_. The girl tilted her head to the side and smiled ever so gently, patting the bench beside her. He didn't need any other invitation and soon he was settled beside her, awkwardly tugging on his tie.

Her merry laugh fell over him, and he turned to face her in confusion. She lifted her hands up and carefully untied the piece of fabric, dropping it into his lap. They both glanced down at the cloth and she turned away quickly, a blush rising in her cheeks. "You were always uncomfortable in ties."

"And you were always uncomfortable in those dresses." By 'those' dresses he meant dressy dresses. He'd hardly been able to keep his eyes off of her throughout the meal, and he noticed the embroidered flowers that snaked up in a beautiful and rare design. He had never seen a dress like that, and his sister owned plenty of dresses with intricate designs. He watched as she uncomfortably twisted her finger around a black curl, her gaze on her shoes.

"Things change as you get older."

"That's very true." He admitted, nervously dropping his hand down to cover hers. They both blushed and looked in opposite directions, though he did note she scooted a few inches closer to him.

"You haven't been around as often." She said in her quietest, most soothing voice. He shrugged his shoulders noncommittally, staring back in the direction of his house. When it began to look as if she was not going to get a response, she turned to angle herself better to face him. "I have missed you."

"I will have to come around more often, then." She turned her hand over beneath his and carefully laced her fingers with his, staring down at their joined hands and pointedly not meeting his gaze. She was afraid of the rejection she might find there in his eyes. And, after a moment, he did draw his hand away from hers and placed both of his hands on his knees. When she looked up he was facing the sky once more, and she followed suit, brushing her knee against his.

"Did I tell you that Emmett told my mother that Mr. Witherdale's son, James, is going to be coming to call for me in a couple days time? It looks like my father won't have to keep tryin' to push me onto you. I don't want you to feel obligated to stay with me, or choose me. If that's what this was all about." She lifted the hand he had dropped onto hers and folded her hands together in her lap. His pale blue eyes snapped to face her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"I don't know what you mean, Alice."

"I don't want to ruin our friendship, Jasper." She replied and offered him her most beautiful and most genuine smile, taking both of his hands in hers so she could face him. Her eyes danced a little as she spoke. "And I know why my father and your Papa have been trying to do with us. I just don't want you to feel like you have to try to do anything with me-- or try to be anything more than a friend to me."

"I didn't know this was a concern at all." He admitted and stood in front of her, lifting his hands up slightly to grip her wrists and helped to guide her to her feet. They started back towards the house, since they could not stay outside long. It was most unbecoming if they did, and their parents would certainly begin to worry that they were up to no good. He raised his hand to grasp her elbow once more and they walked in companionable silence.

And Jasper made a mental note to inform Mr. Brandon the next morning that he had every intention of trying to court his daughter.

End Chapter one.


	3. Chapter Two: First Encounters

The Blossoms

Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Still don't own it. :)

Author's Note: I'm sorry that it took so long to write this chapter. You know how sometimes you just don't want to write? Yeah, I had one of those times. After I had the story 95% done. That's so bad... I'm going to be updating Memories and Bonds Friday. Oh, and I really don't like a word that is used in here. It makes me very uncomfortable, so please don't be mad at me for using the word. For the time frame... It's necessary.

Oh, and a shout out to SpinnetTops with her story A Tale of Two Families. It's seriously one of the best fics I have ever read. So read it for me. 'kay? 'kay.

~*~*~*~

Beaumont Texas, 1859

The wooden carriage had been prepared the evening before, and before dawn had broken over the horizon the father and son had set off long before the women had gotten up. The trip to Houston would take most of the day up, and they would be gone a few days on business. It was Jasper's first business trip with his father, and he really wasn't all that excited about it since he knew the nature of the trip. They had to drop in at the Brandon's home to key Mr. Brandon in on the happenings of the day, and what was to be expected while they were gone since he would be in charge of the slaves in their absence. Later in the day he and his family were going to gather their things to stay in the guest house on the Whitlock's plantation so he can be close to his wife and their newborn son. He had been born rather sickly, so Mr. Brandon wanted to remain with his wife as much as possible in case the passing of their son was inevitable.

In the back of the carriage, Jasper could hear the spare shackles rattling with each bump in the dirt road. It was an ominous sound, though he wasn't sure whether that was because they were going to bring new slaves back home, or because he knew of Alice's passion for argument. Her favorite subject, of course, was in question to slaves. To be honest, the courtship of his best friend was proving to be much more difficult than he had anticipated it would be. The girl he had met in the silver dress, an odd cross between his best friend and a beautiful woman, still remained whenever he went to visit their family. At first he had thought that maybe, just _maybe_ with her newfound grown up appearance, she may have taken on a slightly less forward stance in her opposition of slavery.

Alas, she had not. If anything, her femininity just pushed her that extra step forward. Now she spoke often of the slaves gaining freedom, and women gaining rights as well. Getting jobs, earning the right to vote, making decisions that only men had previously been able to do. The idea was absurd-- the Southern way of living was always set in tradition. What good would tradition be when all that made up tradition was lost in the process?

The blonde boy had tried to explain this to the lovely woman, but she was so stubborn that she would brush off all of his suggestions and tell him point-blank that she was not interested in a life where everyone had to struggle to be who they were truly meant to be. Jasper hadn't had an answer to that, just as she knew he wouldn't. He wondered, not for the first time, what he had gotten himself into by choosing to bring such a wild card into his family. Surely, she wouldn't be happy as the wife of a slave-owner, and Jasper was bound to inherit the slaves. He was the only male in his family aside from his father. Lord knows that Royce would be terrible at running a plantation.

Finally, the father and son came to a stop in front of the Brandon residence and Jasper once again allowed himself to think of the first time he met the firey-tempered girl. Even then, she had pulled him in against his will. Whenever he contemplated calling off the courtship for her sake, he would remember how she had taken his hand while they walked down the dirt lane and it would silence the thought instantly. No matter what happened with the slaves, he would find a way to make it work with Alice. Much as he hated to admit it, he was falling hard for her. He would find a way to make her happy.

Jasper and Mr. Whitlock strode up the few steps to the door and his father knocked lightly on the door. Someone would be awake by now, they just hoped they wouldn't wake the baby. He wasn't sleeping well. Again, Jasper felt his heart ache painfully at the thought of little Garrett no longer being part of their lives. Since the child had come along Alice had become extremely devoted to her baby brother, and he knew it would break her heart if he didn't pull out of it soon.

The door opened slowly and both men gave an exhausted Alice their most apologetic looks. She was dressed in her evening gown and her eyes had dark circles under them. Cradled in the crook of her arm was a brown haired baby with blue eyes bloodshot from obviously crying all night. She took a step back and held the door open for the two men without saying a word, her gaze dropping once more to the child in her arms. Mr. Whitlock closed the door quietly behind him and his son, then whispered lowly to the girl, "Would it be all right if I went to find your father, or would you prefer to do it?" She shrugged a shoulder and motioned with her free hand in the direction of the kitchen.

The elder Whitlock nodded his head in thanks to the girl and made his way off to the kitchen. Jasper allowed his eyes to trail over the young woman's slender body, noting how her hair was tangled and there was not an ounce of make-up on her pretty face. For a moment, his heart swelled thinking of their future together, _their_ child being cradled in her arms eventually. He held his arms out for the boy, but Alice shook her head frantically. He rolled his eyes at Alice and gently pulled the baby from her arms.

The change was instantaneous. As Jasper moved to settle him into his arms, the baby started screaming and kicking his tiny little feet. Jasper watched in wonder as the hands, so small they would _both_ fit in one of his, clenched into fists. The limbs started flailing about in all directions, but he only held the child closer to his chest. The girl leaned back against the door, her eyes clenched painfully shut. He watched as her chest fell with her labored breathing. It was almost as if she felt the child's pain and brought it in upon herself.

So Jasper began to hum softly in his most soothing voice, gently rocking the boy. He pressed his lips against the top of his soft forehead and smiled when he quieted down once more. The blue eyes closed as sleep finally took hold of the child, and Jasper lifted his gaze to meet the dark blue eyes. Alice was staring at him and the tension was slowly draining from her body, a gentle smile playing across her lips.

A light touch on his elbow captured his full attention, and he followed half a pace behind her as she climbed the steps. The long white skirts brushed the steps with each step she took, and he worried greatly that she would trip and fall down the steps. Between holding the child and her falling, he couldn't imagine what he would do. But Alice was gracefully as no other woman he had ever seen, so he found himself shaking his head at his own stupidity. Alice would _never_ fall. She guided him down the hallway to the door adjacent to her own bedroom. Together they walked over to the crib that was dressed in blue lace, and he lowered the sleeping infant into his bed while the girl pulled the blanket slowly and carefully over him, wrapping him up in the blankets so he wouldn't get chilled.

They left the room and made their way to the living room where they were able to speak in soft tones. With no one around to supervise, Jasper allowed his right hand to lift and caress her cheek gently. He trailed his thumb over the dark circles that formed under her eyes, then carefully dropped his hand down to capture hers. Never taking his eyes from hers, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. They had yet to kiss on the lips, and he wasn't planning on rushing that. "Papa and I are going on a business trip. We won't be back for a few days, so I won't be able to see you for a while." She nodded her head once, her eyes unfocused and her mind miles away.

The thudding of rapid footsteps caught their attention, so Jasper dropped Alice's hand and unconsciously pushed her a step behind him. As it was, Emmett bound into the room in some ratty tan pants and a grey shirt that had the sleeves cut-off. Since Emmett had begun working down at the Witherdale's plantation and he had to lug around large bales of hay, among other things, his muscles were so big now that barely any shirts he had previously owned fit him correctly. The family had been so involved in little Garrett that they hadn't really had time or energy to buy fabrics for new shirts, so Emmett made do with all he had. And, to be honest, he enjoyed the way his shirts fit him now-- the ladies had certainly taken notice. Even on the occasions he would go to help his father at the Whitlock plantation, Rosalie would sit in her window and enjoy the view. Though she'd never tell her mother that.

"Sorry. Interrupting?" The ridiculous grin that spread over his face made his sister and his best friend roll their eyes simultaneously. He paid it no heed. "Anyway, pa's sending me with you and your dad to help you keep the slaves in order since your pa likes to get the untamed ones. And I'll be buying some fabric so my _lovely_ sister can sew me some new shirts! Any special, girl fabric you want me to get for you to make some dressed from, Ali?"

Apparently, he hadn't realized his mistake. But Jasper did, and he watched as Alice's face paled slightly and her hands closed into fists. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the red crept into her cheeks as her fury began to build. It seemed that Emmett realized his mistake, and he took a step behind Jasper in fear. Really, that someone as large as Emmett was and still managed to be afraid of their 4'10" sister was something to make note of. She took one deep breath. Two. Three.

Finally, her eyes lost some of the wildness that had been there before and she turned a normal shade of color, for which Jasper was extremely grateful. "Business trip?" She questioned in disbelief.

"Papa's words. It's a slave auction." His voice trailed off, not wanting to give her more details. Lord knows she'd _definitely_ have a problem with it if she found out why they needed new slaves. Still, her blue eyes stared into his knowingly. He _would_ have to tell her. She wouldn't give up.

"So, is what your pa was sayin' true? You guys are goin' into the bree--"

A quick elbow to the ribs silenced the brute mid-phrase, but Alice was entirely too smart for her own good. He audibly groaned as her face flushed in fury again, her eyes ablaze in anger. "_Breeding?!_" She demanded, her voice shrill as she tried to keep it quiet so as not to wake the baby. "You are going to _breed slaves?! _Jasper Whitlock!" She growled quietly, taking a dangerous step forward. He blonde instantly stepped back, his hands raised in surrender.

"It's Papa's business. He's been wanting to do it for a while, says that the breeders make all the money. Honestly, I'm just goin' to help him out, Alice. _I'm_ not buying any slaves." Mr. Whitlock and Mr. Brandon chose that moment to come into the room. They were ushering the boys to the door as they walked. The girl was only a few steps behind them, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips turned down in a frown. "I'll see you in a few days, Alice." He offered from the doorway. Mr. Brandon had already mounted his horse, calling over his shoulder for Alice to get her sister and mother up and ready to go. He would return midday for them all.

Jasper tried once again to make amends with Alice, his hand closing on the door frame as she gripped the doorknob. He turned his soft eyes onto her, and he frowned at the anger that still held there. "When we get home I'll take you to dinner in town, all right? Maybe Emmett will even chaperone." Emmett was the most inattentive chaperon, and they preferred him over anyone else. He had hoped that might win some more points in his favor, but all it caused her to do what harrumph and shut the door in his face. He barely had enough time to draw his hand away.

Already seated beside Mr. Whitlock, Emmett was half-turned in on himself with his wild laughter. The blonde boy glared at his best friend as he climbed up into his seat, but didn't bother saying anything more. His mind was already too focused on the angry girl he'd just left behind. Holding the reins, Mr. Whitlock patted his son sympathetically on the shoulder. "Don't worry too much about Mary Alice. When we get back home she will not leave your side." Jasper certainly hoped so, though he didn't voice the thought. Instead, he turned his face to the rising sun and the echo of the birds songs as they flitted through the sky.

It was going to be a very long day, and it was going to be an entirely new experience that Jasper wasn't sure he wanted to live through.

~*~*~*~

The sun was high in the sky by the time the trio made it to Houston, the wheels casting up thick clouds of dirt. All around well-dressed men, women and children bustling around like chickens in a hen house. Up ahead, a teenage boy was darting between passing carriages with a cloth ball in his hand and there were three other boys chasing after him whooping. It was startling some of the horses, and many of the men were shouting reprimands to the boys but they appeared not to be paying much attention at all.

For a brief moment Jasper saw himself as the boys, darting around and playing and laughing. Not caring about anything and just being content with himself. But that wasn't the life he'd been brought up to know. There had never been time to play between his lessons and preparing to take over his Papa's role in the family at the drop of a hat. With that thought, he sat up straighter in his seat and ran his fingers through his thick blonde waves.

It didn't take long for them to find the stables, and a slave was ready to take the horse and omnibus until they came back to fetch it. The three dismounted their seats and the boys walked out ahead of Mr. Whitlock so he could talk with the slaves and they could look around. The boys raced on past again and one of them, a tall boy with dark hair, tossed the ball straight into Jasper's waiting arms. Simultaneously, Jasper and Emmett glanced at one another with unsure expressions until the boys came to a halt in front of them. "Hey!" A blonde one in the back called out, wiping his sweaty hands on his dirty tan slacks. "Toss me the ball!" Chuckling, Emmett swiped the ball from Jasper's arms and chucked it roughly at the other boy's head. He managed to dodge, but the group looked at the hulking figure in awe.

"We don't want to play. Run along, children." He chuckled, folding his arms over his chest as Mr. Whitlock emerged from the stables to stand beside his son. If the boys were going to retort, the sight of Mr. Whitlock silenced them and they bolted as quick as lightning with their ball in hand. The eldest in the trio wore a grim expression as he led the two boys across the dusty road.

The large wooden building finally came into view, it's high-peaked black roof a sharp contrast against the almost white sky. It was huge-- and though there were windows in the front of the building where the auctions were likely to take place, the back of the building had no windows to allow light to filter into the room that held the slaves. Outside, people were already standing about waiting for the auction to begin. As was customary, the higher-prestiged clients were allowed first pick of the crop for an additional fee. Though Jasper didn't know it initially, his father was in fact one of those who paid the extra money to get a private look at the slaves. So, when they approached the doors instead of waiting outside like the others, Mr. Whitlock pushed the doors open and ushered the boys forward, and followed a pace behind them.

The room was stuffy and hot, none of the windows had yet been cracked. The stale scent of sweat radiated from every inch of the building. Wooden chairs were placed in an orderly fashion facing the platform that the slaves would be brought forward in shackles to stand upon. Already on the platform, the auctioneer stood with a stack of papers shuffling through them. He was an older man with grey hair and a long white beard. His bushy eyebrows could be seen over the top of his rounded glasses. He was dressed in a dark grey suit with an odd brown tie that was barely dangling from his neck. The instant he set eyes upon Mr. Whitlock the biggest grin imaginable crossed across his withered lips. "Ah, Mr. Whitlock! You have chosen a good time to come! We have an excellent selection, sir." The man trotted down the steps and almost fell down in his eagerness. He probably would have, had Emmett not seen the danger and moved forward to help him down the last three steps. "Right this way, gentlemen!" He exclaimed and darted through a wooden door.

Mr. Whitlock followed without hesitation, though the boys paused a moment then followed. The smell of sweat was much stronger once they had passed through the door. The walls were lined in what appeared to be cells, much like those they held in prisons. Most of the cells held three or four slaves, though the farther in they got the fewer slaves there were in the cells. It took a moment for Jasper to realize it was for the quality/quantity ratio. Mr. Whitlock didn't even pause to glance at the cells that held more than two slaves, and even then it was only a quick glance.

Jasper had to pause before a cell holding a woman who had to be in her thirties, with two children that couldn't be more than ten years old. He noted that males and females were separated as well, so the sight of the frail black woman clutching the two small children to her sides as she sat between them was truly heart-wrenching. Every time he thought of black women it made him think of his dear Zafrina, and the small children only reminded him that he never had seen Zafrina with a child of her own.

"Son, come here." He rose at his father's command and strode down to his father's side, though it took him ten paces to take his gaze from the pen that held the poor women. His father stood there most patiently, a very serious expression on his face as he beckoned his son forward. Together they entered the cell of a slender black woman with her hair cut so short that it was hardly even noticeably there. There was a certain exotic beauty to her, though, perhaps it was the slight curve to her lips, or the amber shade of her eyes. "Nigger, come here." Mr. Whitlock growled lowly in his gravelly voice. Even Jasper cringed slightly at his father's terminology as the girl rose elegantly to her feet and took her place between the two white men. The auctioneer stood at the doorway with Emmett, effectively blocking her exit, though she didn't even cast it as glance.

"What is her name?" Jasper was careful not to ask the girl herself, since that would be frowned upon by his father. You don't ask a horse its name, so you don't ask a slave its name either. It was a lesson early learned.

"Senna." The auctioneer responded, his voice raining with enthusiasm. Jasper watched as his father took the girl's chin in his strong grasp and turned her face this way and that, looking for any flaws in her beautiful complexion. Seemingly satisfied, he slid his fingers up to her cheeks, and forced her mouth open to look inside at her teeth. Never before had Jasper seen this, and he felt awful for the woman, but she showed no outward signs of discomfort other than her hands flexing into fists briefly before falling at her sides.

"She has good teeth." Mr. Whitlock observed.

"She has been well cared for. Twenty years of age." The man leaned against the bars and smirked slightly as Mr. Whitlock spun the girl around to check the rest of her body. As his hands traveled over her body, Jasper watched her eyes clench tightly shut. Finally satisfied, his father pushed the girl a few steps away and ushered his son from the cell. The door closed behind them and Mr. Whitlock gave the auctioneer a single nod.

"I will give you $1,200 for her. I want to see the others."

And so the day went on in that fashion. By the time the sun began to sink in the sky there were four new slaves that were purchased, and the promise of seeing more the following day was offered upon parting. The auctioneer also gave his word that the slaves that Mr. Whitlock chose would be cleaned and readied for him to take on the long journey back home.

It was quite an educational experience for Jasper, and though he loathed the act he understood to a certain degree that the slaves his father had chosen were actually going to be rather lucky slaves. He had seen other slaveholders who were far more cruel to their slaves than he and his father were. And with that thought in mind, he followed his father and best friend down the dirt lane to an old wooden-framed inn with a creaky sign that flapped in the wind. _The Round-Top Inn_. His father had spoken of the place many-a-times, and of the Mexican family that ran it.

The windows of the building were dirty and the roofing appeared to be falling apart. The door was a reddish colour and it was just a little too short for the frame. Upon hearing the footsteps up the path, a young woman opened the door and cast off a beautiful, enchanting smile. Her white teeth were a stark contrast against her caramel skin tone, and her eyes were the darkest brown Jasper had ever seen. Beside him, Emmett cast him a knowing look and wiggled his eyebrows. The man really ever only had one thing on his mind, after all.

"Welcome to The Round-Top Inn." Her voice was melodic and her eyes danced merrily as she took in Jasper and Emmett's features. She turned her gaze back onto Jasper's father and her smile widened. "Mr. Whitlock, it has been a long time since you came last."

"Yes, Maria." He grinned at her as he stepped into the house, curling a finger into her long black hair. "You've grown quite a bit."

"Thank you, sir. May I show you to your rooms?" She didn't wait for an answer, gathering some room keys and starting on up the stairs. At the top of the steps she handed Mr. Whitlock his key and pointed to the room he usually frequented down at the end of the hall. Emmett took another key from her hand and beamed as she pointed to the room beside Mr. Whitlocks. Finally, she turned to face Jasper and her eyes softened as she held the key out to him. "The room next to his is free."

"Thank you, Ma'am." He bowed his head slightly, reaching for the key. When she didn't loosen her grip immediately he turned his curious gaze to her face and found her smiling mischievously. "Ma'am?"

"Please, call me Maria. Not 'ma'am'. I'm certainly not old enough to be that!" They shared a laugh and she relinquished her grasp on the key. "It was a pleasure to meet you Mr.--"

"Whitlock. Jasper Whitlock."

End Chapter Two


	4. Chapter Three: Decisions

The Blossoms

Chapter 3

Author's Note: I hate Writer's block. x.x Thanks for bearing with me. Much love to Spinnet and Jaina ^.^ I luff you guys and everyone else on A Tale of Two Families board... Here we go!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

~*~*~*~

Beaumont Texas, 1859

They stayed only three days, long enough to acquire five new slaves and turn Jasper's world upside down, making him question himself in ways he'd never done before. Three days in Houston and finally, _finally_, Jasper was beginning to see the rhyme and reason of all he'd been brought up to know. All that he had learned came into play, it all equaled up to a simple answer he'd been too blind to see before. He learned the best qualities to look for in a potential slave, certain characteristics and flaws to avoid. For once he was eager to return to the life he'd once known and _change_ it. He was finally ready to become Jasper Whitlock, Plantation Holder.

To say Mr. Whitlock was pleased was an understatement, and though he congratulated himself fervently and sang praises to himself, it was not truly Jasper's father that had created that yearning and excitement within him. Nor was it his eager best friend, Emmett, who sat beside him bouncing in his own excitement and joy with the promise of returning to the Whitlock plantation as another hand on deck after seeing him in all his perfect glory with picking slaves.

No, it had been Maria, the young Mexican girl whose family ran the inn in which the three had stayed. She and Jasper formed a quick and steady friendship as easily as her parents had with Mr. Whitlock. Maria... Maria was beautiful and charming-- elegant in her own impoverished ways. the way Maria treated the three of them as if they were kings truly confused Jasper, and when he questioned her on it, she said simply that it was how it was meant to be. _Meant to be!_ Slave-owners were the ones who ran _their_ world, and they chose those that would rise and who would fall in their world. The way she spoke of power made it seem as if she hungered for it. And Jasper was no fool, he saw what appealed to her was the power and dreams of a life different than the one she knew.

But she made him long for it in a way he'd never even noticed before. The power she so coveted lay in waiting for him to stretch out his hand and take it. So, it was this thought that made him finally do just that. Upon returning home he and Emmett instantly took the new slaves to be branded and put to work. They didn't pause at the house or the guest house to greet the women as they were custom to doing-- no, things were changing and the world looked a shade brighter than before.

In their absence, Mr. Brandon had been running the plantation and as always he'd separated the troublemakers from the regular workers and made them do their typical twice-as-hard work and kept them away so that when Mr. Whitlock returned home he could punish them however he saw fit. Jasper, Emmett and Mr. Whitlock stood together facing the three slaves to be punished as Mr. Brandon told of their crimes. They were typical things-- mostly just slacking off, though Laurent tried to run again. He would be getting the most lashes, which was normal.

It was decided when it became Laurent's time for the lash that it would be Jasper's turn to deal the punishment. He'd never done it before, so when he took the whip from his father's hands his trembled and his heart pounded wildly in his heart. A strong hand fell on his shoulder and he took strength from his father, drawing in a deep breath. Before him, Laurent turned his knowing eyes onto the young man, almost challengingly. The boy had always been weak-- the weakest link in the chain. He was not afraid of him.

"Papa." Jasper's voice was much stronger than he had thought he'd be capable of. Mr. Whitlock looked at his son and nodded a single time, dropping his hand from his shoulder. He turned to face Mr. Brandon and offered a slight smile.

"I think we have wives that we should greet properly. Let's leave our boys to it." And they left, Emmett and Jasper stood facing the slave. He stood strong and tall, his long hair dreaded and hanging over his left eye. It was a challenge of wills and Jasper was determined that _this_ time he wasn't going to back down. This was what he was born to do. He wouldn't back down.

Nodding to Emmett, Jasper tightened his grip on the whip and steadied his arm. Effortlessly, Emmett removed Laurent's shirt and took his shackles, forcing him to kneel before Jasper. Even as he knelt before the boy, Laurent's gaze never broke from his own. Gritting his teeth, Jasper closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the first time the leather broke the skin. Why was this so hard? He drew the whip back--

"Jasper! No!" Suddenly the leather was ripped from his grasp. Shocked, he stared at the furious pixie girl before him, effectively blocking the slave from his sight. In her tiny hands was the offending object he'd been about to use to claim his rightful place as the head of the plantation... Seeing Alice, his light-- his angel-- _here_ in this place was such a staggeringly painfully _wrong_ image, he wondered what he was doing. How could he hurt her like this?

Lifting his trembling hand he took a step towards her and reached for her. She shied away from the touch, trembling in her rage. Without another word she knelt down beside the slave and turned his face towards hers, inspecting him for damage. Alice had never seen any of the working slaves on the Whitlock Plantation, so she was horrified to see the scars and rough shape he was in. Her fingers lightly brushed against old wounds as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Finally she stood and glared at the two men facing her. "Alice--"

"What happened to you? Why are you doing this?" She snapped, helping the darker man to his feet. He didn't bother saying a word, just watched the three white people in mild amusement. Really, letting a woman speak to them was almost as insulting as a slave speaking out of turn.

"This is what I _have_ to do, Alice. This is _my_ place. I'm going to inherit all of this. I have to be able to do as any slaveholder would do. You can't change this." Jasper snapped back warily, knowing very well that this was an argument Alice would not let him win. She had to learn, though, her place and his and slaves were all completely different. If she couldn't accept their roles than how could he bring her into this life? How could she ever hope to be his wife?

She sneered at him, her black hair windblown and framing her face giving her the appearance of a madwoman. She waved frantically at Laurent, her chest heaving in exertion. "_This_ is wrong. He is a _human_, Jasper! You can't do this to him! Please!" Her voice broke at her last word as tears finally marred her cheeks. The whip fell from her hands while she stood before them in all her wrecked glory. She sank to her knees, trying to catch her breath and it was all the blonde man could do to keep himself from pulling her in his arms and whisking her off to make everything all right.

Kneeling beside her, he brushed the tangle of hair from her face and wiped the tears away. When her gaze finally lifted, Jasper pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head and took her tiny hand in his own, helping her to her feet. His arm slid lightly around her waist so he could guide her forward and he deposited her into her brother's arms. The two men shared a look, and Emmett nodded. Her brother's arms tightened around her as they left the building, her sobs could be heard even after the doors closed behind them.

Finally, Jasper turned to face the smirking Laurent and his jaw tightened. Drawing in a quick breath, he lifted the whip once more in his hand and rolled his shoulders back. "On your knees, Laurent." His voice wasn't as strong as it had been before, now raw with emotion. There was a moment's hesitation then the other man was on his knees before him. His father had deemed it necessary to give the slave twenty lashes, but Jasper couldn't bring it upon himself to deliver the whole of the punishment.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Each snap of the whip caused him to cringe, even though the one receiving the punishment didn't flinch at all. There wasn't much effort or strength going into it, though blood was beginning to pool on Laurent's back and welts were rising.

Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

Tears filled Jasper's eyes, though he did his best to hold them at bay. He was a _man_ now, and men did _not_ cry. Especially not over something as trivial as beating a slave for trying to run away. There were slaves who were _killed_ for this, ten lashes should be _nothing_.

Nine.

A ragged breath was the first sign that Laurent was feeling any pain. As the leather came down once more, Jasper locked his eyes with his slave and for an instant he could see himself there with Laurent standing over him, beating him, making him cry. He didn't have the strength that this slave had-- were it _him_ in Laurent's shoes he didn't think he would fare half as well.

Ten.

With the final stroke, the tears finally broke loose. He fell to his knees beside the now-trembling slave and allowed the tears to just fall. They sat together like that for many minutes, both regaining their breaths with their gazes never breaking. In that moment Jasper felt for the first time an ounce of the pain that he and his father and all of the other plantation owners were bestowing upon these men and women. For a second, Jasper and Laurent were one.

It was the scariest moment of Jasper's life.

~*~*~*~

Dinner that night was served with the Brandons at the Whitlock home. By the time the blonde man made his way into the house, dinner was ready so he went straight to wash up and change his clothes. As he took his seat, he realized there was another guest at the table. Royce King was seated beside Rosalie, trying to engage her in a conversation about his family's finances, but though Jasper's lovely sister nodded politely to Royce, it was quite obvious her eyes were locked on the hulking form seated beside her brother. Royce was oblivious, however, and chatted on and on.

Alice sat on Rosalie's right, her head bowed slightly. She had changed into a violet gown and her hair had been combed through, though it fell in slight waves over her shoulder. She hadn't bothered to try and put it up at all, and Mrs. Whitlock was shooting disapproving looks to her every few minutes. Jasper's heart felt heavy with guilt when the tiny girl refused to lift her gaze from the table.

Zafrina and two other slaves came in carrying the dinner trays and soon the table had quieted while the families ate in companionable silence. After the main course, little Cynthia raised her wrist to show Jasper and Emmett the pretty bracelet that Rosalie had given the little girl as a gift, and they admired it loudly while dessert was brought in. Royce didn't even look at the bracelet. Jasper saw the sleezy man wrap his arm possessively around the beautiful blonde girl and tug her slightly into his side. Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock gave them no attention whatsoever, preferring to play the unobservant card.

It was half-way through dessert when baby Garrett began to sob loudly from the bassinet that had been brought into the dining room with them. Without even questioning her mother, Alice rose to her feet with a quiet "Excuse me." and went to her baby brother. She carried him from the room for a diaper change, they could hear his wails echoing through the mostly silent house. Mr. Whitlock grinned broadly at the Brandons then at his own son. "Alice has quite a way with children, doesn't she?"

"Indeed." Mrs. Brandon replied, taking a sip from her glass. "I don't know what I would do without her, she's taken so much of the role over. She'll be a good mother." She added, nodding in Jasper's direction. Jasper's eyes darkened at the words, and he scooted the chair back a little.

"Will you excuse me, please?" His parents consented and Jasper rose from the table, politely pushing the chair back into place before he followed the sounds of the baby's crying. It didn't take long, and soon Jasper found himself standing in the doorway of the sitting room where Alice was seated in a rocking chair with the little baby cradled possessively against her chest. Though he knew he had made noise upon entering the room, Alice didn't give him a second glance. He waited several minutes, leaning against the wooden frame, but the baby never quieted. "Maybe he's hungry." He offered. He smiled inwardly as Alice finally looked at him.

"He's not hungry. He ate while you were getting ready for dinner. He's not burped, and I just changed his diaper. He just wants to be held, but he doesn't want me and _they_ don't want him." She sighed warily, kissing her baby brother's forehead. "He's too much work. Mother doesn't say it, but she hopes he dies. He's too sickly. He's too fussy. He's not _perfect_." Her shoulders trembled softly. Jasper was at her side a moment later, gently prying the baby from her arms. She didn't fight with much effort and soon Jasper had the child in his arms.

He soon began to hum to Garrett and rocked him in the manner he'd seen Alice doing previously. Though it took a long time, he finally drifted back into a restless sleep. "This isn't healthy." He murmured to the young woman as he passed the child back into her arms carefully. Luckily, the baby didn't awaken. "Have you spoken to the doctors?"

"They don't know what's wrong with him. They say to just keep doing what we are doing." Alice rose to her feet and together they walked back to the dining room to place the baby back into the bassinet. This time it was Jasper who tucked the blanket back around the little baby's shoulders, then he stepped away and slipped his arm around Alice's waist.

"Mama, Papa. Alice and I are going to go for a walk. There are a few things we need to talk about." Mrs. Brandon and Mrs. Whitlock shared a worried glance, though their husbands clearly disagreed with the assessment.

"Of course. Don't be out too late, or we'll send Emmett out after you." Mr. Brandon replied with a grin, making the dimples in his cheek prominent. Jasper laughed softly at Alice's father and tilted his head in acknowledgment, then led the small woman to the door. Zafrina walked up quickly behind them.

"Missy?" She called, unsure. The pair turned to face her simultaneously and Zafrina grinned slightly as she held out a white shawl. "'s gettin' a bit nippy out. Thoughtchya may want somethin' ta keep your arms warmed."

"Thank you, Zafrina." Alice smiled charmingly and gratefully took the cloth and draped it over her slender shoulders. A moment later she felt a hand close around hers. Her hand was lifted to Jasper's lips and a lingering kiss was pressed to the back of it. Unable to hold back a slight smile, she squeezed his hand in hers and together they left the house, walking back to the garden he had first decided that it would be all right for him to fall for his best friend.

There was no moon, no stars hanging in the sky. The air smelled faintly of rain, so they knew they had little time before it began to fall. Without speaking, the pair walked straight towards the bench and sank down on the wooden planks. Finally, she turned her body towards him, and bowed her head as she prepared herself to speak. Jasper tensed, knowing the direction this conversation had to go. "Jasper... Why?" Was all she could get out.

"Alice," He began, savoring the feeling of her name on his lips. "This life... I have to be ready for it. My father isn't going to be around forever, and someone has to keep it running once he is gone. My mother will need me, if something were to happen to him. This plantation has been in my family for generations." He turned away from her, drawing in a deep breath. "I don't expect you to understand any of it, and I don't expect you to _like_ it. _I_ don't like it. But it's part of the packaged deal. I can't choose some of it and let the rest of it go." Finally, he looked at her and slid his fingers through her thick hair. "But I-I love you, Alice." He bit out nervously, watching as her eyes widened. "I don't want to lose you because of what I _am_, what I have to _be_." He debated telling her about what happened with Laurent, but decided against it. He didn't want to hurt her, too.

"I love you, too." She whispered, her eyes downcast. "I don't think I can just look the other way with this, Jazz." She whispered, blinking back tears. "I can't see you hurt people like that. It will destroy you."

"I won't let you see any of that. When we are married-- yes, _when_, don't look at me like that-- When we are married I promise you that we will make all of this work. And you won't have to see any of the slaves or worry about that. Rosalie and my mother have never been where you went today. I'd appreciate it if you didn't go there again. I don't like seeing you upset..." He pulled the small girl to his side and she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart beneath her ear.

"I won't promise you anything, Jasper." She said, her eyes closing. "I don't like seeing anyone in pain."

Gently, he slid his fingers through her hair and drew her away from his chest. He watched as her eyes opened in confusion a moment before he leaned in and stole her first kiss. At first, she didn't know what to do, since she was so caught off guard, but after a moment's hesitation, her eyes flitted closed and she leaned further into his embrace, moving her lips gingerly with his. It was singularly the sweetest moment of his life.

Then the rain began to pour from the sky, drenching them within a minute. They both stood, laughing, before lacing their hands together and running back towards the house. On the porch, Emmett stood with a stern look on his face. "You two were gone too long."

"Shut up, Emmett." Alice laughed and leaned close to him then shook her head, splashing his chest with water from her hair. A moment later she squeaked in surprised as she was lifted up into the massive arms of her brother. "Put me down!"

"Not in your lifetime, Pixie." He grinned, winking at Jasper as he stood there with a blissfully happy look on his face. Finally, Jasper held his arms out for the girl and Emmett dropped her into his arms with a grin. "Now, get your fanny in the house. Pa's gonna get the carriage and we're gonna be headed home."

"In the rain?" Alice pouted, folding her arms.

"You have some more clothes up in Rosalie's room. Change in them, you're holding Garrett on the way home." He swatted her on said fanny, and smirked as she darted up the stairs. Then he turned and faced Jasper, the smile disappearing from his face momentarily. "Your lucky Pa didn't see you kiss Ali out there. He'd have skinned you alive."

Jasper grinned at him winningly. "That's why you're my friend. You watch out for me."

"But I'm _her_ brother. I'll be watchin' out for _her_. Got it?"

"Loud 'n clear."

End Chapter 3


	5. Chapter Four: The Wedding

The Blossoms

Chapter 4

Author's note: So I'm gettin' back in the groove of things. Thank you so much to Jaina for her help on this chapter! It's greatly appreciated, and I love you Brain Twin! And thanks to Miz, my Brain sister!

~*~*~*~

Beaumont Texas, 1860

The Whitlock plantation was buzzing with life as the sun began to lift over the horizon. Already, the family and slaves had been up for hours setting up decorations and pinning lovely cloth flowers to anything and everything in sight. The men were dressed finely in black slackes with their hair combed neatly and styled to impress. The women were nowhere to be seen as they were in either Rosalie's or the master bedroom. The day had finally come for Miss Rosalie's wedding, and she would settle for nothing but the best.

In Rosalie's room Zafrina stood behind her little mistress, adjusting her hair a little off to the side as Alice knelt before the bride-to-be's feet, adjusting the hem of the dress for the millionth time. Honestly, Rosalie was beginning to wonder which one of the three was more nervous about her upcoming wedding to Royce King. Since the date had been set for the wedding she and Alice had gained a whole new level of friendship, and Rosalie honestly didn't know where she would be without the little pixie of a girl.

Did they have any idea how terrified she was? She wondered briefly if her mother felt this fear before she wed Mr. Whitlock. She wondered if her mother had ever loved anyone aside from her children. Sometimes Rosalie wondered if her mother even loved them at all. What would her mother do if she realized that every inch of planning Rosalie had put towards this day had been with Emmett Brandon in mind, and not her groom, Royce King?

Would Rosalie come to regret this decision?

Yes. As Rosalie stood before her floor-length mirror drinking in every inch of her lovely, impeccable form she knew that one day she would regret this decision even though she knew it was the right one. Maybe someday when she had children of her own she could look back on this day with fondness. Maybe she would forget about Emmett when she left Texas for good and became the perfect wife she always knew she would be. When she would hear that he was to be married someday, would she be able to smile and be happy for his good fortune, for the lucky woman?

Putting on her tailored smirk, Rosalie pulled the pins from her lovely golden locks and allowed them to dumble down her back. She rearranged her hair so it was only pinned back in the front and gave her an innocent, carefree look. She reclaimed her seat in front of the vanity while Alice gathered the necessary supplies to make up Rosalie's face. Though both women were enchantingly beautiful, make-up could be used to enhance the beauty of any girl if applied correctly. And Alice had a real talent for applying make-up.

Once Rosalie looked perfect, Alice walked to Zafrina to have the woman help her tighten her corset. Rosalie held up Alice's forest green bridesmaid dress and helped her to slip it on. It was Rosalie who twisted Alice's black locks up into an odd, but lovely, updo with whisps hanging down over her forehead and little tendrils falling around her shoulders in curls. The tiny girl applied her own make-up and the two embraced, though Rosalie had to bend to properly do so.

"I'm going to miss you." The blonde woman admitted, fighting to hold her tears at bay. Why did she feel as if she were about to sell her sould away? She felt her only girl friend's arms tighten around her.

"Me too. You will come back for mine and Jasper's wedding, won't you? I know it may be difficult--" Rosalie laughed into Alice's hair before she held the other girl at arm's length.

"If I have to sneak away and ride back on a _bull_, I will be here. As if I would be able to miss my favorite brother's wedding!" At Alice's incredulous expression, Rosalie hurried to continue, holding back a laugh. "Besides, I'll need to properly welcome you into the family." Alice rolled her eyes and they shared a strained laugh. They both knew Royce would put up a fight. "And Alice... You'll tell me if Emmett gets engaged or married, won't you?" The young woman's voice trailed off as she sank down onto her bed, so her friend followed suit, giving Zafrina a look until she left the two alone.

"Rosie, are you sure you want to do this? Don't tell me you love Royce, because I know you better than that. And Emmett--"

"Emmett can't even factor into this. There's more to this life than love, Mary Alice." Alice scoffed, folding her arms over her chest.

"Then why are they allowing me to marry your brother?" It was a question Alice had been wanting to ask for a long time, but could never round up the courage to voice it aloud. She'd heard Mrs. Whitlock reprimanding Rosalie for allowing her eyes to wander to Emmett when they should be focused only on Royce. So why was Alice good enough for Jasper, when Emmett was not good enough for Rosalie?

"They expect better of me." Rosalie replied after a long silence. She could see the anger building in Alice's tiny form, but she waved it away. "Jasper just wants to do as Daddy does, but he won't go out searching for Miss Perfect of Texas, even even when Miss Perfect is shoved under his nose he is oblivious." She chuckled, remembering when Mama had brought Miss Mallory for a visit to win him over. It had ended in Lauren Mallory dumping her cup of tea on him and demanding her escort to take ehr home. Rosalie grasped Alice's hands tightly in her own. "Mama needs me to have a good, rich husband because I won't be able to be here. That's not the way it is done. And your family isn't rich, Mary Alice. My brother, he can take care of you. You will become an aristocrat in due time." Seeing Alice turn her face downward, Rosalie smiled at her tenderly. "You've ruined him for anyone else. Even if you wizened up and went after someone else, he would pine for you. I doubt he'd ever consider marrying anyone other than you." She chuckled and kissed Alice's cheek lightly.

"So, see? Sometimes people can marry for love. Not all of us are lucky, though." Alice's eyes filled with tears, but Rosalie just brushed them away and laughed a soft, twinkling laugh. "But don't you be sad for me, my sister." She smiled when Alice's face lit up at the veiled compliment. "I will have a good life as Rosalie King. All women will be envious of my good fortune in life. Royce is a good man. He will treat me well." She assured her friend softly.

Zafrina knocked ont he door gently, poking her head into the room and casting a tender smile upon the girls. "Miss?" She said in a low tone. "Your Mama wants to see ya in her room 'fore you go down." The blonde nodded her head and slipped into her dress shoes as alice did the same. Together, they walked hand-in-hand into the master bedroom.

There, standing in the doorway to the walk-in closet, was Mrs. Whitlock, dressed in a light pink gown with her hands clasped tightly in front of her, a brilliant smile painted on her face for her daughter. Everything was going perfectly, and there was only one thing left to do before the ceremony began. With an enchanting smile, Rosalie crossed the room to stand before her mother, gently drawing her into an embrace. Mrs. Whitlock tightened her hold on her daughter briefly before stepping away. She cupped her cheek and hissed her lightly. "You are beautiful, Rosalie Lillian Whitlock." Her voice was soft, her face lit in joy.

"Thank you, Mama." Rosalie obediently whispered back, folding her hands demurely in front of her as she spoke. Mrs. Whitlock took note of the stance and silently praised her daughter for remembering.

"Your Grandmother, Olivia, gave this to me on my wedding day to your father. You must take good care of it to pass it along one day to your own daughter." As she spoke, Mrs. Whitlock withdrew a fashioned jewelry box with a string of pearls that lie just inside. From the center dangled a diamond heart pendant that shimmered in the faint light. Rosalie's eyes widened slightly as her mother carefully removed the necklace from the box and crossed to stand behind her. She slipped the necklace around her daughter's neck and smiled as it settled into the hollow of her throat.

Alice crossed in front of Rosalie and admired the stunning beauty of the necklace. She traced her fingers over the winy pearls, the smooth texture sliding easily under her fingertips. Mrs. Whitlock saw the expression on the girl's face and gently, but firmly, situated herself in front of Rosalie, ignoring Alice all together. "Rosalie, the women in this family are the strength of this family. We give our men heart and a reason to keep going. We honor and obey our husbands."

Rosalie tensed and frowned slightly, her brow furrowing slightly as she took in her mother's words. "There are things that they do that we won't agree with, but we know our place." Mrs. Whitlock cast a quick glance to Alice. "There are things that your husband will ask you to do that you will not agree with. There are things we will ask you to try to do that you aren't comfortable with."

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she continued, finally turning enough to bring Alice into the conversation as well. "Do it." She ground out. "He is, or will be, your husband. A wife's duty is to give her husband happiness and joy. Give to him whatever he wishes and your marriage will be a contented one. Do not listen to fanciful tales of love and happily ever afters. They aren't reality. You're in for a world of pain if you believe differently."

The two young women shared a worried glance, but Mrs. Whitlock looked relieved at finally having spoken her mind. SHe placed the jewelry box into Rosalie's hand and even managed a small smile to Alice. "I am going to claim my seat now, darling. Your father will be here shortly to walk you to your groom." She kissed Rosalie's cheek and walked past Alice without glancing back.

A few short minutes later and the pair were joined by Mr. Whitlock. He escorted them first to her room to drop the jewelry box off on her vanity, then finally to guide her down the stairs. Alice walked ahead of them, peering out the window to the gathering friends and families of the Whitlocks and the Kings. The eerie tune of a fiddle echoed across the gathering, sounding more melancholy than jovial to Alice's trained ears. It only took a moment for her to recognize Emmett as the musician, and Alice's heart felt heavy in her chest at her brother's sad smile.

Cynthia beamed at Rosalie while smoothing out the lapels of her gown, then tucked a stray strand of auburn hair behind her ear. Cynthia's dress was the same shade as Alice's but she held a small basket of wildflowers in her hand. The tiny one-year old was acting as ringbearer, so the procession would be a slow one. Alice's little sister kissed Rosalie's cheeks and beamed at the bride, then turned to her little brother and held her hand out. "Come with Cyn-Cyn, Gary?" She cooed to the child. Instead, the little boy popped his thumb in his mouth and clung to the fanciful pillow as if his life depended on it. Mr. Whitlock chuckled, glad that he thought to hold onto the rings until they reached the front.

Cynthia took the thumb from the little boy's mouth and together they began the journey to stand near the preacher. It wasn't long before Alice started her way to the front, giving her consent to the whole fiasco. The first couple of rows she passed went by in a blur, and she was hardly aware how quickly her life was changing. She slowed to watch as Cynthia paused to drop a flower before walking forward again with Garrett. Her Garrett. It was going too fast. Before long it would be hers and Jasper's wedding. Her mother and father would be on their own with Cynthia and Garrett. Would they be all right with her gone? Would they forget about her? The panic began to set in, so she did the only thing that could ever truly calm her down. Her gaze sought out her future husband's, and she felt her heart lift at the slight upturn of his lips. She refocused, looking at Royce and offering him and his best man, James Whitherdale, the faintest grin while she claimed her place.

The melody changed, and Alice heard Emmett's soothing baritone join the fiddle. It was a song that she didn't recognize, probably one that he wrote just for this. And when Rosalie took that first step down the long walk to her future, Emmett's voice cracked.

Rosalie passed everyone blindly, her gaze never wavering from Emmett's as she came to stand beside Royce. Her father kissed her cheek and gingerly placed the rings on Garrett's pillow. But Rosalie didn't seem to notice, since Emmett played the last chord and sank down into his seat. Alice watched as Rosalie discretely wiped her eyes when she passed her small bouquet into Alice's waiting hands. She wore no veil, so there was no way to shield her from Royce's knowing eyes. The blonde forced a smile and twined her fingers through his as the preacher began the vows.

Finally, after a brief kiss, they were announced as Royce and Rosalie King. They walked back down the aisle, Rosalie's arm looped through her husband's. They went on past back towards the house where the reception was to be held in the seldom used dance hall. Alice and James followed the pair, with James tugging the small girl closer to his side. Behind them trailed Cynthia and Garrett. The friends and family followed in the back and trickled into the dance hall. A group of local players were already positioned, and the music began to play as soon as the bride and groom entered.

As was customary, Royce pulled Rosalie in close to him until she was pressed solidly against his chest. They began their official dance to a cheery tune, looking enchantingly beautiful in the glow from the candelabras strategically placed throughout the dance hall. They were exceptional dancers, so before long Royce began to spin his bride around, and the steps began to be a little faster paced adding to the allure by Rosalie's bouncing blonde locks. As the final chord played, James tugged Alice's hand and guided her out to the dance floor. He pressed her firmly to him as the next song began and other dancers began to join in.

As the song changed to a slower dance, James leaned in close to Alice's face. He brushed the strands of hair framing her face back behind her ears, his gaze traveling over her soft features and finally setting on her lips. They were set in a firm line, and she was trying to draw away from him warily but his lips curved up into a gentle smirk as he tugged her in closer to him, quickly closing the distance between his lips and hers. However, just before his lips could meet hers, a firm hand fell on his shoulder. He turned away from Alice then glanced, unimpressed, at the towering frame of Jasper Whitlock. "Yes?" He demanded in a hostile tone.

"May I interject? Miss Brandon owes me a dance. And I fear her card will be booked for the rest of the evening as well." James sneered at Jasper and turned away quickly, drawing Alice close once more.

"You can wait your turn, Whitlock." Jasper's hand clenched into a fist as he drew in a heavy breath.

"You misunderstand me, Mr. Whitherdale. Either you will get your hands _off_ my betrothed, or I am afraid I must escort you outside so we can handle this the way you obviously would prefer it to be handled. Make your choice, I just wish for you to understand that if we step outside, you will _not_ be returning back inside." James clenched his teeth a moment before he smirked and allowed his hands to travel down Alice's sides then stepped away.

"By all means, she is your _betrothed_. What claim could I possible have to her?" He chuckled and took Alice's right hand in his to press a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. His gaze never wavered from hers until he released her hand and swept across the room to gather Miss Weber up into his arms for a quick dance. Jasper's arms wrapped possessively around Alice, guiding her from the dance floor. He took her to get a drink before they would return to the festivities.

The evening flew by in a blur and before they knew it Rosalie and Royce were getting settled up in a carriage. They would be staying at the King's residence that evening then heading to Mississippi where property had already been purchased for the prospering family. Most of the guests had left long before until it was just the Kings and their family that would be staying with them that evening, the Whitlocks and the Brandons. Rosalie had changed into a violet gown that complimented her eyes nicely, and she waved to her family goodbye, resting her head on her new husband's shoulder as it started down the dirt road.

Alice and Cynthia were hurriedly trying to get the hyper Garrett to settle down enough for a quick change before the long journey home, so Jasper decided to see if he could speak with Emmett before his family left, since the last time he'd seen Emmett the man had been leaning against the wall watching as Rosalie danced the night away in arms that were not his.

It didn't take long for Jasper to find his best friend. Just about everyone's favorite place at the Whitlock plantation was the gardens, and with the flowers blooming so lovely, there was little doubt of where he would be. As Jasper approached he saw the hulking figure with his head bowed and his shoulder hunched slightly. His dark curls were wild as if he'd run his fingers through them a million times, his left hand clenched tight into a fist while the right hand held a crisp white rose loosely. It was singularly the most heartwrenching thing Jasper had ever seen in his life.

Quietly, he sat down beside his friend and listened to the harsh breathing drawing in an out again. It took ages before Emmett was finally willing to sit up straight. Jasper saw that his eyes were red and a little swollen, but he would never tell him that he saw that weakness. A crackly laugh broke through the awkward silence and he cast a quick glance at Emmett who wore the most curious grin on his face. "Ironic, isn't it?"

"Excuse me?" He said lowly.

"On Rosie's big day I fall apart. I should be happy for her, y'know? Since I l-love her. That's what you do when you love someone, isn't it? You let them go when it's best for them to be somewhere else, _do_ something else? This is what Rosie wants-- the big wedding with the handsome husband. A new home, a new _life_. Babies. People bowing to her every whim. I could never give her that." Emmett tossed the rose to the ground and stood quickly, looking down upon his friend. "I think it's about time I start headin' off on my own, too, Jazz. Maybe go a few towns over and start workin' on someone else's plantation. Live there. I'm old enough now ta be on my own. Mama and Pops can handle it without me. A fresh new start may be just what I need to keep goin' on. Maybe if I'm away from all this I won't hurt for her so much. Maybe I'll forget."

Jasper knelt beside the bench, taking the white rose gently in his grasp. He cautiously stood beside Emmett and watched as his eyes fixated on the white blossom. "Maybe forgetting isn't the right thing to do. Maybe the memory of the love you feel for her will bring you happiness when you're in a rough spot. Maybe, just maybe, Emmett, she is trying to convince herself to forget about you, too. But she won't. She loves you as much as you love her. Sometimes it's just not meant to be." Jasper pressed the rose into Emmett's now limp hand. Reflexively, Emmett's hand closed over the stem. "That doesn't mean you should ever forget."

And in that instant a small flicker of a smile crossed Emmett's handsome face. Cynthia ran into the yard yelling as she did for her brother. "Emmett! 's time to go! Jazzy, Ali wants to say goodbye!" The two men shared a brief grin and a one-armed hug then went back to the house.

End chapter 4


	6. Chapter Five: Compromises

The Blossoms

Chapter 5

Author's Note: So this chapter really didn't want to start. Once I can get a chapter going it's usually pretty easy to keep it rollin'. Therefore I want to give much thanks to my coworker who allowed me to brainstorm with her (after I forced my story upon her...) and gave me the brilliant idea to start this! And also helped me to get a good direction for this story to go in. Thank you, Rachelle!

~*~*~*~

Beaumont Texas, 1860

_June 16, 1860_

_My Dearest Family,_

_How I have missed you so! Life in Mississippi is so different than that of Texas._

_I would be lying if I said that married life is just as I had expected it to be. Royce_

_is a fine man, a good husband. Still, I sometimes wish that I had waited just a _

_little longer before I married my good husband. Just to spend a little more time _

_with all of you, just to stay in Texas a little longer. _

_I wish you were here with me, then perhaps it would be easier for me to go on_

_doing as I must. Royce is a very busy man here. Starting and running your own_

_Plantation is proving to be more difficult than either of us anticipated. Royce is_

_enjoying the challenge though. We're hoping that you may be willing to part with_

_a couple of slaves just until we get everything under control? It would be nice to_

_have a reminder of home with me, also. Even if it was just Laurent I would be per-_

_fectly content. _

_It's getting to be lonesome with Royce constantly gone. My personal servant is_

_constantly with me, but she is hardly worth the company. She is too quiet, and _

_I often forget she is there. Perhaps Royce and I will have children soon, and the_

_house won't be quite so lonely. _

_Give the Brandons my regards and please pick a rose to give to little Garrett._

_I don't want him to forget about his Aunt Rosie, now do I? And Cynthia should _

_get one as well. I don't want her to think I've forgotten her. I'm afraid I must cut_

_this letter a little short or Afton will not be able to deliver it to you while he is in_

_Beaumont. Don't forget your little Rosalie. I love you all very much._

_With my heart,_

_Rosalie Lillian King_

_P.S. Jasper, tell your Alice to stop worrying about me. Everything is fine._

The paper had long since been read over so many times that the creases were thick and was close to tearing. The whole family had read the letter, but Jasper had taken possession of it after he read it. He'd given Alice the message at the end, but still he read it over and over again. Something was off about his sister's writing. It was far too formal. There was too much of Royce in it and not enough of Rosalie. The entire last paragraph made his heart throb angrily in his chest. As if they could possibly forget about Rosalie! She was so deeply embedded into their lives, even if they tried to forget she would come back again and again.

It seemed as if she thought she would be forgotten since she was out of sight. It also occurred to him that she never once mentioned Emmett by name, which was odd in and of itself. The only conclusion he could come to was that Royce had either been there with her while she wrote the letter, or he read over the letter after she had finished it. He was caging Rosalie in and there was absolutely nothing Jasper could do about it. Except... Except that she had asked for Laurent. His sister had only seen Laurent on the odd occasion when he was brought to the house to deliver a message to Zafrina or Mrs. Whitlock from her husband. And Laurent was never sent alone-- there was too big of a chance that he would try to run.

But Laurent was a protective male, and Jasper had witnessed firsthand Laurent's protective streak with his fellow slaves. He'd tried to defend many of the female breeding stock from their fates, only to be punished and the females forced to their fate regardless. Yes, there was a reason that Rosalie had asked for Laurent personally, and Jasper would give his sister whatever measure of protection he could afford to. When Afton would leave in three days to go back to Royce's plantation, Laurent would be in his company.

Since the day that Jasper had been forced to whip the man, the pair had reached a wary understanding of one another. And though Jasper had been forced to do so many times for various offenses, it never became any easier for him. It never was just a chore to do, as it was for his father and Mr. Brandon. It truly hurt him to hurt the slave, and Laurent knew it. He'd witnessed the bitter tears Jasper had shed on his behalf-- and on the behalf of lost innocence. That was officially the day that Jasper was forced to look at things from an adult perspective.

He didn't doubt that Laurent would willingly do this. Laurent would keep Rosalie safe.

So lost in thought was he, Jasper hadn't noticed the soft footsteps outside of his door until the gentle creaking of his door being pushed open forced his head to snap in that direction. Standing demurely in his doorway was the slight form of Cynthia Brandon, her copper hair settling finally against her shoulders. She wore a green dress that was designed to have off the shoulder straps. The girl had grown lovely over the years, and she now wore light make-up to add to her beauty. When his eyes met hers, her gaze instantly dropped to the floor as blood rushed to her cheeks. "Hello, Jasper." She said shyly, her arms crossing in front of her.

"Cynthia." He said in a low voice, setting the letter on the tabletop beside his bed. He stood and smoothed out his slacks before running his fingers through his blonde curls. "You are here early. Where is Alice?" He crossed the room to his dresser and withdrew a pale blue button up shirt. Thoughtlessly, Jasper tugged the grimy cotton shirt he wore over his head and rolled his shoulders before slipping his arms through the blue shirt and began working on buttoning the fresh shirt. He heard Cynthia's sharp intake of breath, and forced himself not to face her until the shirt was properly done-up.

"Sh-She's downstairs with Garrett. Emmett's visiting from Austin. He said that he's gotten some big news to share with all of us." Jasper's eyes lit up with joy at the mention of his best friend. It had been four months since his sister's wedding, and therefore four months since he'd last seen Emmett. It truly was shaping up to be a good night. He pushed all thoughts of Rosalie from his mind as he offered Cynthia his arm. The girl took it, beaming at him happily as they descended the stairs. They entered the living room where everyone was lounging about, and Jasper stepped away from Cynthia with a slight grin as he spied Alice seated on the ground with little Garrett, rolling a ball to the small child who grinned broadly and threw it in her general direction. Alice would laugh, her black hair bouncing slightly with the movement before she'd reach over and reclaim the ball only to do it again.

Seated in the off-white loveseat were Mr. and Mrs. Brandon, turned to face Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock as they sat in the larger couch at a ninety degree angle from them. In the chair across the room, watching everyone with a solemn expression was the barely recognizable hulking form of Emmett. It was almost as if with Rosalie's disappearance the light had faded from Emmett's eyes. His eyes were a little sunken looking and his face was scruffy with his lack of shaving lately. His black curls were longer than usual and looked very greasy as if he hadn't bathed in several days. Jasper sincerely hoped that Emmett _had_ bathed semi-recently. He knew how his mother could be about things like that...

Once everyone became aware of Jasper's presence, they all turned simultaneously to face Emmett. Jasper realized they were all waiting for Jasper before Emmett would give whatever big news it was that he had to everyone. With the spotlight suddenly on him, Emmett seemed to close in on himself a little, his eyes clenched shut as he took in a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he grimaced slightly. "Well, I'm sure y'all have heard that John C. Breckinridge is runnin' against Abraham Lincoln for President, right?" A vague nodding of heads. "Well, they're all sayin' that if Lincoln gets elected President he's gonna stop slavery from goin' to the new territories. There's talk of war all over the place. And if he gets elected they're talkin' about secession. So, y'know... there would be two different countries here. Everyone's gettin' ready for it."

"For war?" Alice's bell-like voice rang out. Jasper chanced a glance at her and saw her drawing baby Garrett into her arms. The little boy wrapped his arms around his sister's neck tightly and tugged on her hair. "That's a stupid thing to go to war over." She ground out, her brow furrowing as she gentle withdrew her brother's fingers from her hair. "They're just starting to realize that slavery is wrong. They're doing the _right thing_ for once. They are people, too."

The room went silent in disbelief and everyone stared at the girl as she rose to her feet, unwilling to be kneeling on the ground before them. She hugged Garrett tightly and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Mary Alice Brandon." The girl tensed and sighed, turning slowly to face her father's angry face. "This is not your place to speak. You know _nothing_ about this business. You don't understand the way this world works and you'd do well to learn your place sooner rather than later. Lord knows if you keep this silly nonsense up there is no way that Jasper will want a wife with such a mouth upon her! He has many other options, or have you forgotten? _This_ is what he will inherit, you foolish girl. You will be living this life that you seem so set against."

They watched as Alice rolled her shoulders back and set her jaw, barely keeping her temper under control. Garrett began to twist uneasily in her arms and he reached instead for Cynthia, and the copper-haired girl instantly moved to take him from her sister. Alice, however, twisted away so she and her brother were backing out of the room. Finally, she moved past everyone in a huff, the sound of the front door closing echoed throughout the house. Without missing a beat, Jasper went to follow her outside, but Mrs. Whitlock called out to him. "Jasper. Don't. Just let her go and fume for a few minutes." She turned to face the Brandons with a stony face. "You let your child get away with far too much. She is not nearly as obedient as a girl is supposed to be. She is temperamental and volatile. Do you not give the girl any discipline at all?"

Mrs. Brandon blanched, her eyes wide in her horror at her daughter's behavior. She couldn't seem to come up with anything to say that would defend her or her daughter's actions. Mr. Brandon wrapped his arms around his wife's shoulders but didn't give any other acknowledgments as Mrs. Whitlock rose gracefully to her feet. She brushed past Jasper and rested her hand on his shoulder a moment before following the steps of the angsty girl.

She was not difficult to find, sitting there on the front steps of the porch and singing softly to her fussing brother. The wind and mussed her hair, making it fall wildly around her shoulders. The footsteps echoed behind her, but Alice didn't bother trying to turn around. Soon she was cast in shadow as the older woman loomed over her, and all Alice could do was close her eyes and fight back another wave of tears.

"Are you proud of yourself? Do you really find yourself so _irreplaceable_ that you think you can act out in front of your family? My son? Your future in-laws? It's quite rude, you understand? And storming out of the house as you did just shows how childish you really are. If ever you wanted to prove my point that you are _not_ good enough for my son, you just did so. Don't you dare shed a single tear, you foolish girl." Alice bowed her head and tightened her arms around Garrett as she drew in deep ragged breaths to keep control of herself. "You are a strong-willed girl, and Lord knows we need girls with backbones, but you _must learn your place_. There are ways to get your way while still holding your place. To be a lady you must learn how to do both. It is a balancing act. And down here, you act as a lady. Do you understand, Miss Brandon?"

A single nod and a wary glance were her only response, and Mrs. Whitlock exhaled a deep breath and sank down on the step beside Alice in a show of compassion that she wouldn't normally give. "You have already learned how to be a mother." She nodded to Garrett in her arms. "I have seen your brother around your entire family, yet he only chooses to go with you. He would have died had you not cared for him."

"Yes, ma'am." She replied, confusion rolling off of her in waves. "Gary keeps me sane most of the time. I apologize for losing my temper." She finally sighed and rested her head against the railing. "This all just feels wrong to me. And I can't just sit back and listen while people--"

"Oh, yes you can." Mrs. Whitlock snapped back, tugging a blonde lock behind her ear as she spoke. "Your place is at Jasper's side. You will do as he says when he says to do it. _This_ is all going to be his someday." She waved her hand in a wide arc to represent the entire plantation. "My boy doesn't find this life easy, but he does what _he_ must because it is _his_ place. He will need his wife to support him and care for him. He will need her to be compassionate and help him to relax. He will need her to give him children and to make certain that his meals are always ready for him."

"What if I don't like my place? What if he doesn't like his place?"

"He doesn't have to like his place now. He will grow into it and it will become second nature to him. As to you... Well, you don't have to like your place. You don't even have to stay in your place, if you don't want to. But you will." Alice's dark brow furrowed until she lifted her chin to look into the older woman's knowing eyes. "You will learn and accept your place to stay at my son's side. You are a fortunate girl, Mary Alice. Not everyone gets to marry for love, you know. But you really must learn to hold your tongue. You just make things more difficult for him."

Little Garrett slipped out of Alice's arms and started to wobble towards the door, and Alice allowed a gentle smile at him. She felt her heart fill with joy and love as the little boy's brown curls bounced with each uneven step. "You see?" Alice turned her gaze upwards as Mrs. Whitlock rose to her feet and smoothed her skirts. "That is why you will do what you must. Love. You have unconditional love for Garrett, you have unconditional love for Jasper. You will do what you must to stay with him, to keep him. Because he is worth it, isn't he?" After a moment Alice nodded and rose to her feet as well. "You remind me a lot of myself when I was young. Full of ideas and innocence. Naive." She patted the younger girl's shoulder gently. "I think that it is time you start to learn discipline. I am going to speak with your parents about having you move into Rosalie's old room so you can learn to be a lady."

It took only a moment for Alice's features to light up in surprise and joy before the expression shifted into a sorrowful glance at her little brother. "Mrs. Whitlock, I cannot leave my brother. And it would be improper for a lady to live in the same household as her future husband."

"Do not fret about impropriety. Lord knows that _everyone_ in these parts has heard the blasphemy your mouth lets loose. It will come as no surprise that I would not allow my son's future wife such behaviour. And you will have to leave your little brother eventually. He is old enough now that he would be all right without you. It's about time your sister Cynthia starts taking on the responsibility of being the oldest girl in your household anyway." Alice bit her lip as she scooped the little boy up in her arms, but said nothing more. "It's good that Emmett is home. He will be able to get your things brought over here. And do not think for an instant that you will go traipsing into my son's room in the middle of the night. I will have Senna placed with you at all times. Her baby will be due in the next few months, I'm sure she'll be more than happy to take it easier."

Together the three reentered the house and made their way back to the living room. Alice allowed a faint, grateful smile at Mrs. Whitlock as she set Garrett back on the ground. He immediately went to the ball once more, making her smile more broadly. With a sigh, Alice exhaled and folded her hands in front of her as she had seen Rosalie and Mrs. Whitlock do countless times. She turned her bright blue eyes to Jasper's frowning face. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior. It was inexcusable, and I promise you will not get another outburst like that again."

The silence following was heavy and shocked. No one had expected Alice to ever be tamed, and certainly not in that short frame of time. Cynthia glanced worriedly at her sister then looked to her mother who was frowning at her eldest daughter and staring as if she'd never seen her before. Mr. Whitlock broke the silence with a loud chuckle and a knowing look at his wife. "You have a way with children, my darling." She allowed a faint smile as he crossed the room and brushed a kiss against her cheek.

"Yes, and speaking of my way with children-- John, Abigail-- I think we should speak about Alice's education and future as a Whitlock. I have already spoken with Alice and she has agreed to my idea, and I really think that you should take what I offer into serious consideration before you make any judgments. Perhaps we can talk about it in private? Julian?" Her face was soft, but authoritative, and he grinned in acknowledgement.

"Of course, darling. Let's go to our study."

~*~*~*~

Jackson Mississippi, 1860

Life in Mississippi was so different than the life Rosalie had known in Texas. It didn't help that there was hardly anything ready on this plantation aside from the house that had been erected just before they had moved in. Not even Royce had anticipated as much work and effort as he'd had to put into this land. And oftentimes, such as that night, he was gone well into the evening hours. He and a neighbor he'd been paying to work as a farmhand were busy getting the land plowed, ready for the next crop season. He had many cattle and even some sheep that he had purchased as well, to keep his plantation from falling under.

Rosalie had also been taking some lessons to cook, since they hadn't yet gotten a slave that could properly cook a meal. To her delight, she had taken quite quickly to cooking and found that it was easier than she had anticipated. Since Royce rarely was home before the moon was high in the sky, Rosalie would place his meal on a plate and set it inside the still-warm oven until he was ready to eat it. Theirs was a comfortable relationship for the most part, though she quickly discovered her Royce had a bit of a temper on him.

Still, she had taken her mother's advice to heart, and whatever she could do to help him out she would do so as soon as asked. She never questioned his judgment, and she bowed to his every whim. And some of his whims were more unpleasant than she'd admit to. Being with her husband seemed more like a chore to her than any kind of joyful experience, and she was more than happy on the nights when he was too exhausted to even touch her.

When on one evening he was particularly cruel in his 'lovemaking' (for she refused to call it anything else), she found herself losing focus of her husband and wondering if Emmett had ever done this with anyone else? Would he have been more tender with her? Or was this how it always was for all women? Perhaps _this_ was what her mother had meant to warn her about.

Even on the cold, lonesome evenings while her husband was gone late, she would find herself picturing herself in Emmett's strong arms, wrapped in a loving embrace. There were times that was all that kept her going. So she wrote to her family, and she wrote to Emmett, though she knew she would never have the courage to send the letters to him. Instead, she would place them in a small box hidden deep inside her closet for her to finger through when she ran out of things to do around the house.

That evening Rosalie cooked some chicken and made mashed potatoes for her husband. She readied some gravy since he rarely took the mashed potatoes without it, and made some peach cobbler all the while wearing a serene smile. She ate her meal in silence and ascended the stairs to write another of her letters to Emmett. She'd decided that it was time for her to start trying actively to have a baby. She'd seen other women with babies and remembered the joy of little Garrett. Yes, she knew babies were a lot of work, but she knew she was ready for a break in the monotony. She decided that in the letter she would write for Emmett that she would tell him about how she could imagine having _his_ child instead. The dark curls and bright eyes. Dimples. A huge grin that would show off his little gums since he wouldn't have any teeth until much later.

Finished with the letter, she quickly stuffed it back into the box and hid it in the dark confines of her closet, then stepped eagerly from her dressing gown. Rosalie looked down at her corset and allowed herself to loosen the top strings to allow a less-constricted view of her ample cleavage. Tonight would be the first time Rosalie attempted to seduce her husband, and he wouldn't even know that she was doing it for her own benefit.

It wasn't much later that Rosalie was lying in bed, her wild blonde mane of hair fanned out about her head when the door creaked open. She heard the dull thud of each step Royce took across the room to the basket of dirtied clothes that Rosalie would have to wash in the morning. She could hear the distinct sound of his clothing falling to the floor, the gentle scraping sound as he lifted the clothes and deposited them in the basket then his footsteps again, this time getting closer to where she lay waiting for him. The blankets lifted slightly and he slid in behind her, slipping his arm around her waist and drawing her back against him.

Rosalie drew in a nervous breath and turned slowly to face her husband. She froze at the dark look on his face, his dark eyes ablaze with something she'd never seen before. Vaguely, she began to wonder if there was a way to back out of her plan. Then his lips slammed into hers.

It wasn't a pleasant kiss, and she found herself trying to withdraw instantly. His hand twisted into her thick blonde hair and held her to him while his free hand roamed over her supple flesh. She felt him tug her roughly against him, his fingers digging into her hips, likely leaving bruises. Her mother's words replayed once more in her mind and she forced herself to relax in his arms, gingerly moving her lips against his.

Her mind began to wander as she lost herself into that imaginary world once more. Pretending it was Emmett holding her, and his caresses were tender and loving. She felt a tear roll down her cheek at the irony behind the situation, but she forced herself to feel content with the thought of an infant cradled in the crook of her arms. She almost didn't notice the sound of fabric tearing.

All she saw was Emmett's grinning face, bright eyes and those adorable dimples. Maybe her wishful thinking would grant her child _some_ of those features?

She was unaware when Royce had finished with her, only finding herself once more with the sounds of his rumbling snores. She turned onto her side and turned her face into the softness of her pillow, allowing the silent tears to fall down her cheeks. Gingerly, she slid her hand down over her stomach and drew in a ragged breath. _Please_, she begged silently. _Please, just give me this one thing...._

End Chapter Five

Author's Notes: I feel bad for poor Rosalie... sigh. But all things happen for a reason, right? Right. And you all know what Royce did to her in the books. So you really can't be all that surprised. REVIEW 'CAUSE YOU LOVE ME!


	7. Chapter Six: A Kiss

The Blossoms

Chapter Six

Author's Note: We're getting ready to head into some darker stuff here... Well, in a couple of chapters anyway. So... Hope y'all like the story by the end ^.^ Oh, and I had to up the rating to be on the safe-side... I don't know if there'll be any graphic stuff, but Royce is being a bit of a jerk and I'm worried that "T" just isn't gonna cut it.

Disclaimer: There's a verse of a song in here... I don't own it. Words by Alfred Bunn, Esq., Music by Michael William Balfe/ the opera The Bohemian Girl.

~*~*~

Beaumont Texas, August 1860

Life at the Whitlock Plantation was like nothing Alice had ever experienced before. Every morning she was expected to be at the breakfast table before the men had even risen from bed, which in and of itself was quite a feat! She had to be cleansed and her hair brushed, her make-up put on and a freshly pressed dress with matching shoes had to adorn her feet. Then she and Mrs. Whitlock would take their seats and wait patiently for their men to arrive at the table, which never really took all that long once the food was placed on the table. They would eat and the men would go, then the lessons would begin.

It started out as something simple-- posture and etiquette. Now, Alice had learned such things from her mother many years ago, but she had gone lax over the years with caring for her brother and sister and had to be retaught. It was simply incomprehensible that a _Whitlock_ would _ever_ be lax in etiquette. Alice picked that up quickly, however, and once she had that sorted out it was much easier to go on.

After practicing that, Mrs. Whitlock would guide Alice into the study where they would both open books and learn about many different things. Alice's favorite study was art, and there were plenty of books on that, though Mrs. Whitlock liked to focus on more important literature such as "Sense and Sensibility" or "Wuthering Heights", books that had never really interested Alice before. Sometimes they would pull out the Bible and read from that for a while.

Usually after that was the lunch break, and they would have their meal in silence. Sometimes the men would join them, but more often than not it was turning out to be just them. They would have a light lunch then go into the dance hall where a piano was set up and practice a few scales and _arpeggios_. Mrs. Whitlock was delighted to discover that her future daughter-in-law was quite skilled with singing and had a lovely soprano range. Though she didn't know much about sight-reading the sheet music, Mrs. Whitlock went out of her way to teach the girl the basics until she could sight-sing new music while Mrs. Whitlock played the accompaniment. It was one of the rare bonding moments the two shared-- their love for music.

After the music lessons Alice would after venture off back to her room and paint on her easel until Jasper and Whitlock returned home for dinner. Lately with the warmer evenings, Jasper would wait patiently while Alice slipped into a thinner cotton gown then the pair would go on an evening stroll, never longer than an hour or else Mr. Whitlock would be sent to find them.

It was not the easiest life, but it certainly wasn't full of challenges. And though Alice played her part smartly, falling into the role of the perfect wife whenever Mr. or Mrs. Whitlock was around, she had actually learned to fall out of the character when she was in private with Jasper. It was the one time she could be herself, and it wasn't even her idea. She truly tried to be good and sweet and obedient as was instructed, but Jasper had finally had enough. "Why do you act like something you are not, Alice? Why are you suddenly now this obedient, sweet girl? What happened to my firey, stubborn woman? She was the one that I chose to marry-- not this carbon copy of my mother and sister!"

It was that simple exclamation that halted everything. She rounded on her heel to face him, her hands flying to rest on her hips as her brow set in a deep furrow. The angry rise and fall of her chest and the wind whipping her black hair wildly made him smirk slightly even as her eyes narrowed. "What more do you want of me, Jasper? I am _trying_ to be good enough for you! A good wife is obedient and sweet! They make their husbands happy and content and relaxed and--" He cut her off by gently pushing her off the path they were walking on, and pressing her into a tree firmly. Any protest she tried to make was silenced by his lips pressing firmly to hers. Even as his lips moved against hers with a tenderness and passion they hadn't yet shared, she felt the smile on his face.

He pulled slightly away, then leaned in for a quick peck before pulling away completely. His grin was so broad that _her_ face ached at the sight of her. She blinked a few times, regaining her composure until she leaned back against the tree again, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well?" She finally asked, tilting her head to the side. He allowed his face to shift into a coy smile.

"Well, what?"

"What was that for?"

Jasper's eyes darkened, but the smile remained as he closed the distance once more. She didn't move an inch, even as he slid his hand through her hair. Her eyes never wavered from his and finally he sighed. "Because I feel like I lose you when you act like that. I _like_ this Alice." He used his hand in her hair to tilt her head back so he could kiss her lightly again. "I _love_ this Alice. You are _my_ Alice." He continued speaking softly against her lips. He felt her mouth curve up in a slight smile. "And I love the spark that only you have. I hate to see it gone."

"It's not gone." She countered, sliding her hands up along his forearms to rest on his shoulders. She tangled one hand loosely in his blonde curls when he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers. "It's just hidden from view. I'll always still be _me_... Just... More cultured?" He pulled back then and looked at her with a raised brow before they both burst into laughter.

"Let's head back. I don't want Pa to come lookin' for us. I dunno how he'd take to seein' me kissin' my future wife just yet." He stepped away from her and took hold of her hand possessively. A moment later he found her fingers twined with this as they continued on their path back to the house. Zafrina stood just outside the door with a positively joyful look on her face, her hands clasped eagerly in front of her.

"Oh, Missy Alice! Master Jasper! Senna is gone ta have her baby, she is! She been taken down ta the servant quarters and she'll likely have 'im in the night. Oh, it is so excitin', Lordy!" Alice's eyes widened as she turned to look at Jasper, her hand pressed over her pounding heart.

"Well, is she all right then?" Alice demanded. Zafrina nodded vigorously, knowing how taken with Senna Miss Alice was. The girl was always soft on the slaves, and since Senna had been appointed to be Alice's personal slave, Alice had grown fond of her. "Oh, we must see her, Jazzy!" Alice's voice was high and her face was pinched in worry. Jasper raised a brow at her with a look of disbelief.

"Oh, Alice. Mama will _never_ let you see Senna have her baby. She'd likely throw a fit just at the thought of it." Alice grasped his hands tightly in hers and turned her dark blue eyes full forced onto his wavering face. "Alice..."

"Please, Jazzy? I've never seen a baby born before! Mama had Garrett with a midwife, and I didn't see a thing. However will _I_ know what to do when I have a child if I don't see it from someone else? And you know how much I care about Senna! She's such a goodhearted woman. Oh, please! Jazzy? Please?" He groaned and ran his hand through his hair. Zafrina stood a few paces away, a slight smile on her face as she looked on the two. It warmed her heart to see Jazzy so completely in love, especially to such a wonderful girl. A wonderful, strong-willed girl...

"If she hasn't had the baby by late this evening, I will come to your room and Zafrina will take us down to check on Senna. But Alice, we must be careful and quiet. If Mama gets even a hint of what we're gonna do..."

"I know, Jazzy." She replied brightly, her face lighting up in joy. The girl darted over to Zafrina and threw her arms around the older woman's neck. "Zafrina, you must come fetch us when Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock have fallen asleep! Promise you won't wait a minute after!" Zafrina chuckled as she gently pulled away from Alice's sturdy grasp. It wouldn't do to have anyone see her be embraced by the child through a window.

"I promise ya, Missy. Now run along ter your paintin' and we'll see you in a bit." Together the pair made their way into the house, her hand grasped tightly in his once more. Instead of going to her paintings, however, Alice greeted Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock then led Jasper into the dancing hall. She proceeded to play a little on the piano, though she was still not very good. When finally Jasper took over the piano Alice began to sing with his playing. The melody changed and Alice smiled tenderly at him. After a moment she sank down onto the bench beside him.

_"I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls  
With vassels and serfs at my side,__  
And of all who assembled within those walls__  
That I was the hope and the pride.  
I had riches too great to count, could boast  
__Of a high ancestral name.__  
But I also dreamt, which pleas'd me most  
That you loved me still the same_"

He continued to play onto the second verse, but Alice allowed her voice to trail off. Looking at his face, so deep in concentration, but transformed into a look of pure joy made her heart leap up into her throat. He allowed a quick glance at her, his brown eyes shining merrily, and then her hand fell on his to silence the music. With the loud '_thunk'_ the piano made, the two grinned at one another. Carefully, tenderly, he reached up and pulled the pins from her hair until it fell over her chest in soft waves. His fingers worked to gently remove any tangles he could see, but his eyes never left hers for an instant. She felt his hands rest on her shoulders then slide down her upper arms. Without pause, he brushed the hair back from her shoulders to fall behind her back.

Her eyes flitted shut as he leaned in closer to press his lips to hers. It was a chaste, but sweet kiss and she found herself inching closer to him on the bench to get more contact with him. He grinned as he pulled away from her. "Alice?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you." He sighed. She smiled and leaned in for another kiss.

"_Ahem!_" The two broke apart instantly, shifting guiltily in their seats. "Miss Brandon," Mrs. Whitlock said in a sharp tone. The girl rose to her feet instantly, her head bowed and hands folded in front of her. "I think it is time for bed, do you not agree, young one?"

"Yes, Ma'am." She turned to face Jasper and he saw her give him a wink and a hint of a smile. "Goodnight, Jasper."

He echoed her smile and tone. "Goodnight, Alice. Sleep well."

~*~*~

Seeing a baby being born was probably one of the scariest things Alice had ever endured. By the time Alice and Jasper were led to the servants quarters, which was built into the side of the house, it was almost over. There was a huge mess of things that Alice didn't know what of. The baby was half-way out and Senna was exhausted, her eyes had dark shadows pooling under them and her breathing was coming out in ragged breaths.

Zafrina instantly went to Senna's side and clutched her friend's hand protectively in hers while another slave, one they did not know the name of, knelt between the girl's legs, shifting the baby so it would slide out easier. At Alice's side, Jasper was turning a relatively green shade, but Alice was fascinated. She broke away from his side and tilted her head as the baby drew in shallow breaths and let out soft wails. Finally, the baby was pulled free, followed by the placenta, and Senna collapsed against the sheets with a tired smile.

Zafrina took the child from the other woman's arms and took a sheet to wipe the infant clean. It was a boy, but his skin was the lightest shade Alice had ever seen. Her brow furrowed as she tried to think of any of the males that were assigned to breeding duties but none of them were anywhere near that color. Well, it wasn't an exact science, Alice reasoned. Maybe it was just one of those things... The baby was placed into his mother's waiting arms and in that moment, the moment that Senna took her son into her arms and had the most peaceful expression on her face, Alice knew that _she_ wanted this for herself. Someday. It would be worth it, the pain, the suffering. Just to hold her child in her arms and have that peace.

Suddenly Jasper was behind her, his arms slipping around her waist as he held her close to him. Her head fell back against his chest and her arms folded over his. Senna looked up at the pair with a knowing smile and cuddled her son closer. "He shall be called Nahuel."Zafrina beamed proudly at her friend. "Would you like to hold my son, Miss Alice?" Alice looked quickly to Jasper who gingerly lowered his arms. Positively gleeful, Alice gently took Nahuel from Senna's arms and hugged him close against her chest.

"Oh, he is so beautiful, Senna." She said in a low, wondering tone, gently brushing her finger against his chubby little cheek. The baby made a tiny whiny noise and raised his hand as if he was going to brush her away. His eyes were almost too knowing for any infant Alice had seen, actually locking onto her face, completely focused. Jasper slowly came to stand beside Alice, looking down into his face.

"He really is a beautiful baby." He said in wonder. Alice lifted her chin and smiled at him brightly. She lightly kicked his shin as she tightened her hold on the baby protectively. "Ow!"

"Someday it will be _your_ child I hold in my arms. And he will be beautiful with your blonde hair and my blue eyes." She smirked teasingly before offering little Nahuel back to his mother. Senna quickly moved the baby to her breast so that he could have his first meal, and Zafrina guided the two teenagers back to their rooms. It would be dawn soon, and if the Mistress saw them wandering about it would be all of their hides.

~*~*~

Never before had Rosalie ever been so grateful to her brother as the day when Laurent was brought to her home by Afton. In the returning letter she had gotten from Jasper it had said they could only spare Laurent, an no more. Though, truth be told, Rosalie had suspected that Jasper just _knew_ as twins often did, that something wasn't right and was willing to send her what she needed to feel safe.

And it really wasn't that she'd ever spoken to, or cared for Laurent in the past. But she had heard her father and brother speak of Laurent's protectiveness towards the females in the breeding operation her father had begun, and she knew that he would help _her_ if things got to be out of her control. And it was already beginning to be so. Two days before Laurent had arrive had been the first time he'd struck her. He had struck her every day since.

It was never a hard strike-- never a punch, just enough for her to get a warning and back down. But it was beginning to get worse, and far more often. If she messed up a meal he would hit her. If she spoke out of turn, he would hit her. _Just a tap_, she'd remind herself. There were no bruises, unless it was from the _lovemaking_. Laurent's arrival hadn't changed much, though the one time Royce seemed to be completely losing control Laurent had stepped in and taken the beating that was certainly meant for her. Royce had been so _furious_ that the man would try to protect her that he kept beating poor Laurent until he was in a crumpled heap on the ground. The then proceeded to _make love_ with Rosalie right there in the kitchen, right next to Laurent's tattered face.

_Still, it could be worse_. Rosalie insisted to herself. _I could be alone._ And so every day she would write to Emmett faithfully and hide the letters away just as she always did. Laurent had taken to stationing himself outside of her bedroom door. He would announce to her if Royce was coming so she could hide the letter in time. It was very nice having someone around who was watching out for her well-being even though he couldn't thoroughly protect her.

He even helped her to learn how to cook, and there were some household chores that he would help her to do. Since Jasper had sent Laurent there specifically for Rosalie's benefit, her _bodyguard_, he'd even had the audacity to put in the letter, Royce really had no say in what Laurent did. Royce was _not_ Laurent's Master, and that was an important thing Laurent had to know before he even went to this place. He was to answer to only Rosalie and Jasper, no one else. And so that was what he did.

Royce came in early one evening, his hat pulled down low over his face as he walked into the house. Rosalie was just finishing up dinner while Laurent was setting the dinner-table. Rosalie smiled at her husband and went into his arms willingly, pressing a ginger kiss to his dry, chapped lips. He kissed her back, pushing her back a few paces into the side of the table. "I have news for you." He grinned as he kissed her throat. She allowed him access by tilting her head to the side, though her eyes were locked on Laurent who stood nearby gritting his teeth.

"What is it?"

"I will tell you over dinner." He chuckled and pulled away from her. She could hear his footsteps go up the stairs as he changed into his typical evening attire. Rosalie turned to look at Laurent as he took the stew from the stop of the stove. He helped her to ladel it into the two bowls, mostly so she wouldn't burn herself. Glancing about quickly, and listening carefully, Rosalie made certain she could still hear her husband upstairs before she took another bowl and filled it with stew. Laurent nodded and quickly took the bowl to the quarters he shared with Tia, Rosalie's other personal slave.

It was a normal thing for them, Rosalie allowing them to share her food. Though one bowl was certainly not enough for two, the pair made due with what they could get. Laurent smiled at Tia then went back up to wait with Rosalie for Royce's return. He noted that, as _usual_ Rosalie was standing beside the table waiting for her husband to come down. They knew that Royce often took his time preparing for his evening meal as a form of control over Rosalie. She knew not to eat unless he was there.

The whole thing made Laurent angry. He didn't understand how humans could treat one another as they do. _Owning_ one another is crazy, and this Royce acts as if he owns everyone and everything. The slaves weren't people, and even though that was the common misconception, it was true to the slaveholders. But to treat your wife as property? He treated her worse than he ever treated Tia. He's done things to Miss Rosalie that Laurent had never seen a white man do to his wife.

It was absurd.

Royce finally decided to grace them with his presence, and both he and Rosalie took their seats in silence. Royce didn't compliment Rosalie's cooking, though she knew that if he didn't complain that meant it was satisfactory. _She_ certainly enjoyed the meal. Cornbread was brought to the table by Laurent who then reclaimed his position against the wall standing as a sentinel. It didn't go unnoticed by Royce that since Laurent had come to this place, he'd yet to try and run. Even _he_ had heard of this slave's inclination toward running. And he wouldn't have minded letting him run. It would make things far more convenient than they currently were with his wife.

When the meal was completed, Laurent gathered the plates to cleanse the dishes and Royce looked across the table at the beautiful blonde woman across the table from him. "My cousin Irena is going to be staying with us for a little while. Her husband died not six weeks ago, and she has just discovered she is with child. Being as such, she simply cannot remain living on her own, and has asked me if she might stay with us. She already has a three year old daughter named Tonya. So, my love, you will be having companions besides myself yet." He cast a quick glance at Laurent, then settled his steely eyes once more on Rosalie. "So, if you want, we can send him back to your family's plantation."

Rosalie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, knowing she must tread carefully. His temper was on such a short fuse, the slightest thing could set him off. "Royce... I _enjoy_ having a piece of my family, my old life, here. It makes me feel more at home." She watched as his eyes narrowed and she drew in a shaky breath.

"Are you _fucking_ him, Rosalie?"

Never before had Rosalie ever heard such language... Even her father had more respect than that. "Wha-What? No! No, it isn't like that at all, Royce." Royce rose from his seat quickly rounding the table. Rosalie was on her feet in an instant. "Please... Royce, please don't." She begged him, her eyes filling with tears. Laurent was there in an instant, pushing Rosalie back through the doorway and facing off against Royce. He stood there only a moment before Royce punched him down. Again, he began to lash out at the slave, punching and kicking.

Unthinkingly, Rosalie launched herself forward and grasped his fist. She saw the unadulterated fury written on every point of his feature. "Stop! Royce, please stop. Let us go up to bed." She urged him, forcing her gaze not to waver from her husband's. "I'll _prove_ to you that I would never touch a-a slave. Please, Royce." His hand slowly uncurled from a fist, but the unbridled anger didn't quite leave his eyes. Without a word he stepped over Laurent's aching body and pulled Rosalie on behind him, his hand twisted in her wild blonde hair.

Laurent heard Royce's voice clear as day upstairs as Rosalie's body was slammed against the wall with such force that the walls shook. "You belong to _me_." Laurent heard Rosalie's replying whimper then a resounding crash followed by a cry of pain. Just as he willed himself to go up there to try and stop it again, a hand fell knowingly on his shoulder.

"Laurent, it will only make things worse. Go to bed, she'll be fine in the morning. She always is." Laurent looked at the girl then shook his head disdainfully but followed her regardless. Things were getting far too dangerous for Miss Rosalie.

End Chapter Six


	8. Chapter Seven: Changes

The Blossoms

Chapter Seven

Author's Note: It's been a while, huh guys? Well, lotsa drama happened over these last two months and I'm not going to be able to go into great detail about it. Just was kicked out of my house for something stupid, lack of car and no Internet access on my computer. So, anyway, I'm here now and here's an update ^.^

~*~*~*~

Beaumont Texas, September 1860

Alice awoke long before the sun had risen, even before Mrs. Whitlock had made her way from her bedroom. She dressed properly and slipped on her shoes then tip-toed down the hall until she reached Jasper's bedroom door. Without missing a beat the girl pushed the door open and practically danced to his bedside, a slow smile curling over her lips at his slumbering form. Gently as possible she sat on the edge of his bed and placed her hand lightly on his then slowly trailed her hand down his arm until her hand met his then laced her fingers through his. She was a little startled when he squeezed her hand in response and found herself looking into tired blue eyes.

"Mornin', Darlin'." He said in a gravelly voice. Her eyes danced excitedly as she smiled back at him. The bed creaked as he turned onto his side and half-curled around her sitting form and allowed his hand to release hers and rest on her thigh. He enjoyed the slight rush of pink that crossed her cheeks. She beamed at him and settled her hand over the one resting on her thigh.

"You promised me." She smiled at him winningly.

"Mmm... I did. But it can't be later than four in the morning. If we're lucky. Why are you getting us up this early?" He groaned and tugged her slightly until she consented to giving him a few more minutes to relax. Eventually she turned her body so she could lift her legs up onto the bed and she snuggled into his side, tensing slightly as his arms slipped around her waist and his face buried itself into her hair.

He felt soft pressure on his back as she drew circles on his back with her fingertips and allowed himself to smile into her hair. "You said you would take me fishing before your Mama gets up. And you _know_ how early she gets up. So you have to show me _now_." Arms suddenly tightened around her and she felt herself being spun around until she was pinned beneath him, her eyes wide as he grinned down at her.

"I can show you another time, if you'd like. We don't really get to spend any alone time anymore." His large, calloused hand rose and pushed her thick black hair back and tucked it behind her ear. "I'm sure I can get Papa to let Mama to let you come with me to fish." Alice's lips curved into a delicate pout and he allowed himself to smile wider.

"The fish don't bite in the afternoon, Jasper! Please?"

He groaned and allowed himself to slump forward, resting his head on her collarbone as his breath escaped him in a tired sigh. Again, he felt her tense slightly but he paid it no heed, curling his hand into her wild locks. He placed a gentle kiss on the hollow of her throat and rested his ear over her thudding heart. Then, suddenly, he was off the bed and rummaging through his closet. Alice sat up on the bed while he gathered his tattered jeans and a worn cotton shirt. She glided from the room agilely, waiting patiently for him to venture next dressed in his casual attire.

It didn't take long and then the pair were walking hand in hand to the gardening shed to gather the fishing rod. Jasper found it quickly and balanced it against the shoulder of his free hand. The walked through the thick grass, him often pausing to help her get through some of the thicker brush until they finally reached the edge of the shore, then he plopped down on the muddy bank and began to dig for worms.

Alice quickly learned that there was no real glamor to fishing, as she had always perceived there to be. You got muddy and bloody and gross. And when she was given the rod and instructed to cast the line out she learned that it was a lot trickier not to throw the entire _pole_ out into the water than she expected. To her relief (and embarrassment) Jasper found it extremely hilarious and wasn't angry that he had to dive into the pond to retrieve the wayward pole and once he set it upon the bank he took it upon himself to shake some of the water off of himself and onto her.

Alice reacted accordingly and before long the pair were in a play wrestle, their clothing now wet and muddy. A small hand twisted and squished a handful of black mud onto Jasper's chest and without missing a beat he wiped his hand into it cupped her cheek and pressed his lips against hers. When she struggled to get away with a squeal of disgust he just held her tighter to his chest and allowed himself to sink more comfortably solidly on his back, holding the tiny girl over his frame. When she stopped trying to struggle to pull away, he slid his hand back into her hair and angled her lips more comfortably against his then gently parted his lips against hers.

She froze, her hands resting against his chest unsure at the first tentative brush of his tongue against her closed lips. Alice drew back, unsure, looking into his strikingly handsome face and felt a thrilling rush go through her entire body at the red tint to his cheeks. Slowly, hesitantly she leaned back in to meet his lips with hers again in a tentative, unsure manner. It took a moment before he relaxed enough to try again and this time she allowed her lips to part slightly. Her small hand curled into a fist against his chest while she allowed her tongue to brush his.

Strong arms circled her waist and held her possessively against the firm chest on which she was perched. One hand braced her there while the other trailed slowly over her side and settled on her hip. When they finally parted, she sat up and looked down at him with innocent and curious eyes. Jasper was smiling at her slightly, his hand lightly kneading her hip then his gaze shifted up to the lightening sky. "We'd better get going back." He offered shyly. "You're going to need a bath before Mama gets up."

They made it back to the house and into the separate rooms in plenty of time, and Zafrina helped Alice to draw herself a bath just as Mrs. Whitlock was getting out of bed. By the time Alice was done bathing and making herself presentable to the lady of the house breakfast was being set on the table and Mrs. Whitlock shot her a disapproving look at her tardiness. Alice apologized and folded her hands on her lap demurely until the Whitlock men came down for breakfast. It didn't go unnoticed that Jasper had wet hair and was freshly washed as well, but Alice forced herself not to meet their eyes. She kept her eyes downcast the entire meal and ate in silence.

Zafrina and Senna cleared the table and Mrs. Whitlock started to prepare for the morning's lessons, glaring at her son as she passed him. Jasper could only give her a sheepish grin then he and his father were off to the fields. Harvesting season was almost upon them so they had to get the slaves ready to take care of it.

The lessons flew by in a blur, and Mrs. Whitlock was harsher than usual to Alice. She constantly cracked down on the girl, finally losing her temper when Alice misspelled '_ominous'_ in the lesson. "You have enough time to go trekking off to Lord knows where during the middle of the night, girl, but you don't have the time to learn simple _English_?" She demanded.

"I'm sorry, ma'am... I'm trying. Let me try again." Mrs. Whitlock's eyes narrowed at the non-confession.

"No, I think that's quite enough for today's lesson! Perhaps _all_ lessons! Would you like to go back to your _nothing_ life? Become a _nothing_ prostitute, child? Have you no self-worth? I brought you into my home so that you might become _something_ someday! A good wife to a good man. And you try to ruin it all for _what_? A little pleasure? What if you became with child, girl? Are you really so thoughtless?" She demanded, rising to her full height. Alice bowed her head and seemed to shrink a few inches.

"Of course I don't want that... I have-- we haven't-- done _anything_, Mrs. Whitlock. And we won't, not until we are wed. Like it says to be in the Good Book." Mrs. Whitlock crossed to stand in front of the girl, turning her chin up and staring down into her face. Alice's eyes were sincere and filled with unshed tears. Mrs. Whitlock frowned and dropped her hand, backing away from Alice.

"I think you need to spend the rest of the evening in your room. I don't want to see you until tomorrow, do you understand? Senna will bring your dinner up for you. You will have no visitors. Now go."

Alice wasted no time and she raced up the stairs and into her designated room. She shut the door and flung herself onto her bed, allowing her slender form to tremble with the onslaught of her tears. She distinctly heard when the rest of the family entered the house, heard the argument that sprung up between Jasper and his mother. She heard when Mr. Whitlock told Jasper to let it go and then it was eerily silent in the house through the rest of the evening.

When Senna came in that evening with supper, Alice refused the meal and instead curled up in a ball on the bed and drew her knees up to her chest. Senna sat behind the young mistress and gently combed through her thick hair murmuring tales of little Nahuel and how he'd grown a lot over the month. She told Alice that in the morning after lessons she would bring Nahuel up if she wanted to play with him for a little while, and Alice took great comfort in her soothing words.

About an hour after sundown the sound of frantic knocking echoed throughout the house followed by quiet, rushed voices. Alice had decided to try and get some sleep and had changed into her nightdress and was in the process of tying her hair up when her bedroom door was pulled open. She looked up expectantly into Mrs. Whitlock's tense face and she felt her heard drop in her chest. "Mrs. Whitlock?" She asked softly.

"James Witherdale is here for you, Mary Alice." Her voice was just as tense as her face and Alice was on her feet in an instant. "Your parents sent him here. Garrett is ill and will not cooperate for the doctors. They are requesting you to come home tonight." Already Alice was in her closet, tugging her nightdress over her head and stepping into an ill-fitting gown. She paused beside Mrs. Whitlock and bestowed a light kiss on the older woman's cheek.

"I will stay in my room _all_ the next day that I am able, but I must go to my brother. You will forgive me, Mrs. Whitlock?" And in that moment Mrs. Whitlock's eyes softened and lost all the tension and iciness it had held the entire evening. She drew the girl into a tight embrace and let out a heavy sigh.

"You've grown a lot since coming here, Mary Alice Brandon. You will not need any further punishment so long as you stay in line from here on out. Now go, your brother needs you."

~*~*~*~

The ride back to her parent's house with James Witherdale was extremely awkward. Jasper had been most unwilling to let her go on her own, but Mrs. Whitlock had insisted that Jasper remain behind since they did not request _his_ presence. James was far more proper than Alice would have previously given him credit for, and the young man was most understanding of her fright. At one point on their lengthy journey he even shrugged the jacket off his shoulders and slipped it around Alice's so her form would stop trembling.

All in all Alice thought perhaps she'd underestimated James. When finally they reached the Brandon residence he hopped out of his seat and tied the horse to the post then came around to help Alice down from her seat and settled her on the ground. She tensed as he traced a stray lock of hair framing her face. While they walked to the front step she felt his hand on the small of her back in a gentlemanly gesture of kindness. The first step inside the house was a moment of chaos while shouting filled the air, panicked crying reverberated all around. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she walked forward and James' jacket slipped down. She was barely aware of the thud from the cloth crashing to the ground when she entered the living room and found little Cynthia kneeling on the ground beside the couch, tears rolling down her cheeks. Mrs. Brandon was sitting with little Garrett's head resting on her lap and Mr. Brandon stood across the room watching the whole scene silently.

Cynthia turned to face her sister and sobbed, curling in on herself. "Mary Alice! I-I tried to do _everything_ but I just.. He won't-- He just keeps fighting us... And, and I don't want--" She couldn't finish her sentence in her misery and for a moment Alice thought that perhaps she was too late. Then Garrett, her precious Garrett, turned his head and looked directly at Alice and lifted his arms for her.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she darted over to her little brother and raised him up into her arms, soothing the whimpering cries overtaking his tiny body. She sank down to the couch beside her mother and felt his forehead. Her breathing was a little out of sink as she gently peeled the little boy's clothes from his body until he was just down in his diaper. "He's got a very high fever. I need some cool water. Cyn, how long as he been sick?"

"A couple days he's been coughin', but today he just... Wouldn't react. Oh, Alice! What if he doesn't make it?"

"Don't say that! He'll be just fine, won't you baby boy?" Garrett rested his head weakly on Alice's shoulder and let out a shuddering breath. She began to rock him gently when James came back in with a bowl of cool water and a rag. She smiled at him gratefully as she began to cool off the boy's high temperature. "Where's Emmett?" She asked when she felt her brother's muscles beginning to loosen.

"He went to get the doctor." Mr. Brandon finally spoke, staring at his daughter almost without even seeing her there. "It likely won't do any good. With as sickly as the boy is there probably isn't much they can do for him. It was always just a matter of time."

Alice turned her hard gaze onto her father. "Don't you _dare_ speak of Garrett like that. He's going to be just fine. He's always just fine. And I'm here now, little baby brother. Your Alice isn't going _anywhere_, do you hear me? So you have to be strong." Mr. Brandon was suddenly standing in front of her, shaking his head at his daughter.

"You always were an unrealistic dreamer, Mary Alice." His voice softened when he turned to face the sobbing Cynthia. He opened his arms in a show of sympathy Alice hadn't seen in ages and drew Cynthia into his arms, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Off to bed, Cyn. If this takes a turn for the worst I don't want you to be around for it. Mary Alice will stay here with your brother."

Mr. Brandon and Cynthia retired to their beds then, and left Mrs. Brandon, Alice and James to sit with little Garrett. It was over an hour after Alice first arrived that Emmett and the doctor finally arrived together and by then Garrett's fever had in fact broken. The doctor administered some medicine, telling the the four adults that Garrett sounded like he had whooping cough and gave them some medicine to give to him once every few hours. Breaking the fever, he told them, may have saved the boy's life. They would know for sure if he made it through the night.

Emmett kissed his little sister's forehead in gratitude then he left to return the doctor to his home. Mrs. Brandon smiled tightly at Alice and Garrett then followed her daughter and husband up the stairs to her own bedroom, leaving Alice and James alone with the now-sleeping toddler. Alice lay down on the couch with the little boy draped over her chest so she could rub his back tenderly, and after a few minutes James walked to the couch down by her feet. With the hint of a smile he lifted her feet delicately and sat back against the couch, settling her legs on his lap.

She was quite aware when his hand remained on her ankle, tracing lines over them nonchalantly, his eyes never wavering from hers. "Quite a night you've had, Miss Brandon." He said to her. She shrugged a shoulder, pressing a kiss to her brother's temple. "Did you want me to take you home tonight or do you want your brother to take you back tomorrow?"

"Emmett will take _us_ to the Whitlock Plantation in the morning." She gritted out, tightening her arms around the boy. "Lord knows I can't leave Garrett here. He will die. And they won't even _care_." She sniffled slightly, turning her face into the brown curls to hide the tears threatening to roll down her cheeks.

James moved instantly, inching closer to her until it was her thighs draped over his lap then he leaned over her and the little boy. He wiped the tears away with a faint smile which changed to a smirk as the color flooded her cheeks. "Hey. Don't cry, Mary Alice." Everything happens for a reason, right? Maybe this was God saying he wanted you to have your brother with you. The Whitlocks won't tell you that you can't have him there if they knew the truth about what's going on. And I will back you up, I'll tell them that they were just going to let your brother die."

"You will?" She sniffled slightly. Her gaze dropped down when James' hand ran in circles over Garrett's back.

"Promise. I'll stay here and you, me, Garrett and Emmett will talk to the Whitlocks in the morning." She allowed a faint smile to cross her lips. "Now get some rest and I'll wake you in a little bit so you can give him his medicine when he needs it. You're not going to be getting much sleep for a while."

~*~*~*~

Jackson Mississippi, September 1860

Irina had arrived at Royce's plantation only days before, and already things were very different. Rosalie hadn't ever really seen Royce interact with any other females than herself and Alice (who he found rather annoying with her disobedience), so the way he strutted around the house as if he was the only cock in a hen house was beginning to get rather annoying. It didn't seem to matter to him that he was in fact related to one of the women in the house, and he took it upon himself to tell both of the women what to do and when to do it.

Rosalie was taking the opportunity with Tanya in the house to see how he would react with a child, and the results really were not in his favor. When he was not blatantly ignoring the little girl he was constantly reprimanding her, or scolding her. One time he even _spanked_ her and left bruises on the poor child's little behind. Irina seemed oblivious to it all, or perhaps this was what she had been brought up to expect, but Rosalie couldn't believe her eyes. The man she'd taken for her husband was completely different than the man who courted her for all those years...

She tried not to think of the life she'd been trying to bring into their world. She completely forced the fact she'd missed her feminine time by two weeks already to slip away from her and instead focused on her new semi-perminate guests. She took great pleasure in helping set up a room for little Tanya, and even enjoyed the distraction of helping prepare Irena's room.

Irina was a mostly quiet woman, pensive almost. She never spoke out of turn. In fact, she rarely spoke at all. Her evenings were mostly spent by the fireplace, a book in her lap or in her hand until it was time to help make supper. Afterwards she would take Tanya to bed and then call it an evening for herself. It was all very monotonous. Very boring and suffocating. Rosalie was gradually beginning to feel trapped in this life she set up for herself, but she saw no way out of it.

Dinner was finally finished and Rosalie helped Tanya to set the table for the four of them. She sent the child off to get her mother and Royce, then made the customary plate for Laurent, who hurriedly rushed it down to Tia. He returned just as everyone was filing back into the room, his arms folded over his chest protectively, his eyes locked with Royce's as the man took his seat across the table from his wife.

The meal went on in silence. Rosalie closed her eyes briefly, feeling Royce's hungry gaze drifting over her slim form. She willed him to look away and when she felt the heat of his gaze finally go elsewhere she frowned when she saw his eyes raking over Irina's curvier figure. When the plates were cleared away, she watched as her husband approached the pregnant woman and gripped her shoulders.

That was when she saw the first flash of life in Irina's face. She turned her head sharply to look at little Tanya and the girl raced from the room. Royce paid her no heed and allowed his hands to skim over her figure. Rosalie couldn't stand there idly while her husband fondled his _cousin_. Without missing a beat, Rosalie pulled the clips from her hair and pulled her curls enticingly over her shoulder then glided to him. Her hand trailed enticingly down his arm and laced with his fingers, lightly tugging him away from the trembling woman.

At first Royce refused to budge from his place, but Rosalie was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. And it was a rare feat that she would becon _him_ to bed, so he walked away from Irina without a second glance. The two left the room, Rosalie meeting knowing eyes firmly when she leaned on her husband's arm.

Their lovemaking was loud that night. It was a wonder little Tanya could sleep through the sounds that would put a herd of cattle to shame. Irina reclaimed her seat before the fireplace, a book lay open on her lap though she hadn't read anything since before dinner. Her hand was splayed over the bump of the life growing within her. The creak of the floorboards snapped her back into focus. She twisted her upper body around to face the scarred slave standing not even ten feet behind her, a blue blanket bunched in his large, calloused hands. "I thought Miss Irina may be a bit cold. Don't want you gettin' sick when your with child, Miss." He offered and wrapped her blanket around her shoulders.

"Th-Thank you. Uhm... What is your name?" She asked him, blinking her large hazel eyes up at him.

"Laurent, Ma'am." He offered, straightening his posture.

She nodded to him, looking him over. "Will you sit with me a while, Laurent?" She asked, patting the space beside her. Unsure, Laurent cautiously lowered himself into a seated position next to her. To his surprise she leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder, he could feel the trembles clearly now and he awkwardly rubbed her back.

They stayed like that a long time until the young woman drifted off to sleep, so Laurent, not knowing what else he could do, scooped the girl into his arms as if she weighed little more than five pounds and carried her up the long stairs. He pushed her bedroom door open and lay her gingerly down onto the bed then covered her with the blanket, smoothing her hair back. Thoughtlessly, he reached down and brushed his hand against hers, marveling at the stark contrast between her skin and his own. He watched as her hand reflexively closed around his, and he had to gently pry away from her.

"G'night, Miss Irina." He offered and slipped from the room.

He walked from the room and closed the door. Tilting his head down at a slightly easier angle, Laurent started his first night of standing guard between Irina and Tanya's bedroom doors as if he was their own, personal guardian.

End Chapter Seven


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